


Broken.

by death_adder (oasisx)



Series: Open Circuit. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Awkwardness, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, Coming of Age, Complete mess, Derek Feels, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Feels, Jealous Derek, Long, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Stiles, POV Multiple, POV Stiles, Pining Derek, Post Season One (Alphas), Relationship(s), Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Scott is a Bad Friend, Seriously Long Fic, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels, Witches, alphas - Freeform, coven - Freeform, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:37:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oasisx/pseuds/death_adder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peace has been shattered and it is up to Stiles to fix it. Scott can't be trusted, Lydia knows something and Isaac is acting differently. What will happen when Stiles learns the truth about Scotts behaviour? Will Derek ever come back?</p><p>The one where Stiles breaks his arm, Scott is a horrible person, Derek makes mistakes and Isaac is an angle.</p><p>××××××!! ABANDONED !!××××××</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Grace.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic so I'm sorry if it's not up to standard. I am more than willing to listen to feedback. This fic is a really slow burn... I mean really slow so be prepared. You have been warned. It starts off a bit rocky, I know and apologize for that. Time frame is start of season 3 though I kinda do my own thing to cater to how I want this fic to flow. It doesn't follow cannon at all. Some parts may interlock or have similarities but that is just for ease of transition and stuff of the like. Scott is negatively portrayed in this fic so if you aren't a fan of that than this isn't the fic for you, sorry. 
> 
> Warnings and tags will be updated as I go.
> 
> Super anxious about uploading this but it's the reason I wrote it so no turning back now. Sterek wont be too heavy until next fic maybe.. idk see how we go. Stissac will be the main ship for this one. Just an experimentation on my part. Never done anything like this before so bear with me.  
> Un-Bated, all mistakes are mine, if you see any let me know and I will fix them.

Werewolves. Who would've thought that Stiles - a seemingly average, slightly awkward, socially incompetent teen - runs with werewolves. And yet, here he is, standing over a dead body, with a whole group of them.

The Alphas must really not like being double crossed. Really, who does? .This guy’s body was covered with deep claw marks gouging into his stomach, chunks of flesh missing, blood everywhere, sticking to the bottom of his shoes , everywhere. How are they going to explain this one?

Scott was too busy freaking out to know what was going on. Blood was not his cup of tea. Derek and Peter were talking to themselves over by the Jeep. Isaac closely following Scott, though looking a little greener. No one was doing a lot of anything that will help them right now.

As always, it was down to him. He could hide a body, how hard is that? His dad was the Sheriff, so he knew some things. When your main pastime is reading old case files, you see some pretty gruesome murders and pick up a few interesting methods. Not that he ever thought he’d need to use that knowledge. Burn the body, bury the remains as far down as you can dig and then lay low for a couple months. Like anyone would suspect them at all.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Derek walking over, but he didn't pay him any attention. He needed to move the body off the trail. The sun was going to be up soon. He needed to hurry. It was just a matter of time before someone, on their morning run, found them with the body.

Derek, with his always broody and pissed off expression, raised a critical brow. “Stiles.”

He planned to ignore Derek until he got this done, but he knew that was seemingly impossible and quite potentially dangerous.

“Stiles! What are you doing?” He sounded really pissed off. Deep voice raised.

Stiles, being the lovely person he is, pulled the best ‘Lydia’ face he could. “What does it look like, Derek?” he sneered, mocking Derek’s tone.

Ignoring him further, Stiles kept trying to move the body further into the reserve. The blood on his hands and under his feet was making that slightly more difficult. It was hard to get a grip on the body and traction under his shoes. On top of that, the guy was really heavy. Blood was covering him, in his hair and on his shoes. It was disgusting, and it took all of Stiles willpower not to empty the contents of his stomach at Derek’s feet.

“Stiles.” Derek snarled warningly. The guys arm slipped out from his hand and slapped him in the face. “Stiles!” his voice boomed around the woods, causing sleep addled woodland creatures to cry out in surprise and flee from impending doom.

“Derek! Well done, you can say my name!” he said as if praising a child. “If you plan to just stand there how bout’ you move your ass, grab the guy’s feet, and help me move this damn corpse!” His voice grew louder and louder until he was shouting. Derek had a strange look, almost frightened. Peter was just as wide eyed and mouth agape as Derek, neither one of them helping.

Everyone was now looking at him like that. Frozen and wide eyed. Like he was the crazy one. They were the ones that got this guy killed. It was his plan they decided not to go with. They were the ones always telling him he was just the human that couldn't do anything. Well, you know what? No.

He dropped the guy and stormed over to his Jeep. “I’ll see you guys later.” Scott rushed over to his window. He was mad and frantic, eyes crazed with panic. Shaking and pulling his hair. “What? No! You can’t leave, you have to… to help. You're smart, do something!”

Stiles didn't mean to, but he was shouting again. “No, you are the ones that got this guy killed! I told you this plan was bogus. I’m sick and tired of you not listening to me. I am sick and tired of every single one of you judging me and treating me like some useless accessory, like some fragile pathetic human. Deal with this yourselves. I regret ever introducing him to you guys,” he spat, slamming the jeep door in Scott’s face. He was shaking now, too, not just from the rush of adrenaline … but from the sight of all the blood.

Scott kept speaking but he wasn’t listening, too distracted by the fact that he had just sent a guy to his death and he was now covered in said man’s blood, literally. How could he concentrate when right now all he wanted to do was crawl up in bed and cry. He started his engine, put it into gear and reversed out of the trail. “Don't call me.” He may have said it meekly, but he knew they would hear him.

***

Stiles was on autopilot. He didn't remember driving out of the reserve, turning onto his street and pulling into his drive. Or even the fact that he locked his car or walked into the house, getting in the shower and scrubbing himself raw. Bloody clothes haphazardly abandoned across the bathroom floor. He only knew he was in his bed by the warmth, the comfort and the smell of jasmine vanilla. He was not looking forward to school tomorrow.

Sleep soon took him away from his troubles, away from his loneliness and the deep-seated rage he feels toward his ‘friends’. Scott, above all of them, should have been the voice of reason earlier that day when they sent this guy to his death, he should have realized the plan Alison came up with wouldn’t work in fooling the Alphas. Scott should have pulled his head out of his love sick ass and listened to him, his best friend of twelve years. How could he be so stupid? Of course Scott cared about Allison more than him.

If they stuck to his plan that guy would still be alive right now. They honestly have no idea how much death and pain they have caused this town in such a short amount of time. Scott obviously doesn’t understand the concept of ‘No one gets left behind’. They had practically sent that guy to his death, Stiles knew it, but Scott honestly still thinks the world is made of rainbows and unicorns. He doesn’t understand the severity of the situation they are now in. What did he expect to happen when he ran out before the signal was given?

***  
Bacon, eggs, waffles and coffee. Just what he needed. Stiles was woken from his slumber by all the best smells you wish to wake up to every morning. It then dawned on him his dad doesn’t cook, it's not usual of his dad to be making breakfast, especially on a weekday.

He was gripped with panic, something must be wrong, the last time he remembers this kind of thing happening was when his mom told him she had cancer. His dad never cooks anymore. Something was terribly wrong. The floorboards thundered under the weight of his fear and worries. What if his dad lost his job and today is his last day? What if what Stiles smells is actual the burnt remains of his dad’s corpse and this is his brain’s way of trying to process it? Maybe John is going to tell him to start finding his own home so that Stiles can move out as soon as he turns eighteen?

Bellowing down the stairs, he missed the third step and gracefully descended the stairs in a barrel roll of flailing limbs. He heard the sickening sound of bone breaking. Great, this is just what he needed, pain was not his friend.

Pain was searing up his arm, an explosive burst of searing flames, “Stiles, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you alright?” He had definitely broken his arm. With the amount of times he fell over, it was no surprise, it was bound to happen eventually.

Carefully turning his arm over to look at the other side, Stiles hissed in pain from the movement. “No.” he groaned out while trying to stand, John gently helping him half way. “I think I broke my arm.” His father gently moved his arm to have a better look.

“Yeah, come on kiddo, breakfast can wait. This looks pretty bad.” John fixed him with a concerned scowl, “I didn't think my cooking was so great that you would throw yourself down the stairs for it.”

The question was there. He didn't appreciate his dad’s mock humor, when he was only panicking because of his cooking. “Oh ha ha, now a comedian it seems, too.” He couldn't meet his dad’s stare. “No, look can we just-- take me to get this fixed. Would you please stop looking at me like that?”

John said nothing.

Stiles gave his strange expression a returning glare. “What?”

“I- I didn’t, sorry. I’m just… concerned is all. It’s not even light out yet, you’re never up this early.” John urged him up the stairs. “Get dressed and I’ll take you to the hospital. Do you need a hand?” He chuckled lightly, obviously trying to lighten the mood and laughing at his own antics.

Stiles welcomed the change in atmosphere, a grin threatening to tug at his scowl. “Whatever,” he said childishly. “I’ll call you if I do.” The grin won.

“Just don’t – “ Before John could finish the sentence, Stiles stumbled, catching himself just in time. “ - fall up the stairs,” he breathed to himself. Stiles pretended not to hear him.

***

The car ride to the hospital was quick. John may or may not have had his lights and sirens on, using his authority to the best of his ability. Normally Stiles would be milking this. Whooping and hollering, loving every second of attention. Today, however, he just wasn't feeling it. Last night’s events were still playing on his mind. If only they listened to him, none of this would have happened, his contact would still be alive and he wouldn’t be feeling so damn guilty.

 

***  
Upon entering the emergency room , Melissa rushes them through without having to wait more than a few minutes. One of the many advantages of personally knowing almost every staff member working at your local hospital. Another one being the free jello-cups. The anesthetic was starting to pull him under. White walls and sterile faces. Thick air and sour tastes. It all seems a blur. Pain ebbing from his arm slowly. Dizziness takes him.

A wall of mirrors with no reflection. Fast moving landscapes that blurs into color.

“Don't let the light fool you.”

Whispers that echo. Frantic voices competing for his attention, calling his name and shouting their warnings. Chocked sobs of a girl’s cry. Creaking wood. Cracked window. Faces with no eyes and lips pulled over their teeth.

***

When he finally wakes up from his drug-induced high, his arm is in a cast with a sling around his neck.

“Hey, kiddo, how ya feeling?”

Heavy. Like his limbs are being pushed into the mattress by an invisible force. As though someone had injected metal into his veins and the bed was a magnet. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting. When he speaks, his voice cracks and his tongue feels like someone else's. Anticipating Stiles’ discomfort, John hands him a cold plastic cup. Water that felt like liquid air soothingly massages his mouth and lubricates his throat. “Like Wolverine,” he rasped out. John looked at him quizzically. Stiles waved him off, “Never mind … yeah fine, I guess, just heavy.”

John chuckles, his eyes are warm and inviting. “Glad to hear. They said you would feel a little uncomfortable when you wake up.” Stiles nods his understanding and agreement.

“How long was I out?”

“Not that long. No more than an hour, maybe.” John looks away to one side, fighting the thoughts in his head. “Are you sure you're doing ok?” His expression betrays his effort to sound curious.

Stiles hates this. Hates making his father worry. It's not a good look on anyone, especially his dad. Stiles can remember when his dad was just so happy all the time that it seemed as though he had a permanent smile. That all changed when his mom passed. He misses her more and more every day. “Don't worry Dad, I'll be okay.” He lifts his arm and makes a weak attempt to smile, “Just means I actually have a reason to be lazy now. I expect five star service. That includes all the curly fries I can eat.” John scoffs at that.

“Only if that deal includes me in that equation.”

Stiles points his broken arm at his father’s face and squints, “No fries for you!” his imitation of a French accent turns more into his natural Slavic tongue.

They both giggle at his poor attempt. “Forget it, small fry.”

The terrible pun makes him cough from laughing so hard. Still not quite fully awake, his throat is still dry and hoarse from disuse and exhaustion.

John taps his leg lightly, “Come on,” he stands and hands Stiles his shirt and sweater, “let's get you home, huh?”

That sounds like a great idea. “Definitely.”

Hospitals have never been welcoming for him, even if it could be classed as his second home considering the amount of time he spent with his mother. Not very many fond memories of hospitals. Melissa gave them a wave before leaving, too busy to actually stop and chat. Stiles was slightly glad. He hoped not to have to talk to her for obvious reasons. Sure, he saw her as a second mom but right now all he wanted was to eat the mouth-watering bacon waiting for him at home.


	2. Miscommunication.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is fixed up but Scott just makes things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ill upload the first five chapters tonight. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

“So…” The drive home is silent and heavy with the questions his dad wants to ask but doesn’t know how to go about it. Stiles is not a fan of beating around the bush. You have a question, you ask it, no edging or hinting, just be blunt. 

He side eyed John from the passenger seat, “Dad. Spit it out.”

John caught his eye and shrugged, looking back at the road. “Nothing, just …,” he heaved a small sigh. “You going to tell me what, all of a sudden, gave you the impression you were able to fly? Or do you have some hidden, supernatural abilities that I don’t know about?” 

Stiles snorted. He wished, that would make everything so much easier. What could he tell him that won’t upset him and will dampen his worries? “So, you think I can’t fly?” he retorted smugly, resorting to distraction when his brain couldn’t think of anything. “Seemed pretty convincing to me.” 

John gave him a side long glance. Not in the mood for jokes then.

He let out a short breath, “Dad, stop worrying, okay? There is no dirty secret or anything. I’m not hiding anything, and even if I was,” quickly jumping to say, “which I’m not,” from the incredulous look John gave him, “I would tell you. You know that.” He still didn’t seem convinced but relented. 

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

The silence was unbearable. John kept throwing him small side glances, thinking that Stiles wouldn’t notice, at every intersection. His dad worries about him far more than what could be seen as healthy. Stiles doesn’t blame him. He worries about his dad in much the same respect. They are all they have. Each other. If he lost his dad he didn’t know what he would do or how he would be able to handle it. Honestly, he doesn’t even want to think of that as a possibility. The rational side of his brain, however, knows that it is and Stiles himself will do anything to not let that happen.

If Stiles thought John was hiding something from him, he would want to know why. He felt for his old man and decided to tell him the truth. Exhaling a resigned huff, he said, “Scott and I had a fight. That’s all it is. No big drug dealing ring or anything.” 

John let out a small, relieved chuckle. “Well, you’ll get through it. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” Stiles didn’t want to go into detail so he agreed and hoped John would get that from his small grunt and nod. “That bad, huh? Stop stressing kid, Scott will come around and apologize.”

Somehow, Stiles just knew this wasn’t a small fight. It never was with them. Stiles would ignore Scott until he admitted that he was wrong and apologize to Stiles. Scott would glare at him from across the room but look away whenever Stiles looked back, giving him the cold shoulder. They were both stubborn. Usually it would be Stiles that had to suck up his pride and make things better. Just goes to show another way that Scott is a terrible friend because most of the time, if not all the time, it is Scott’s fault that they are arguing to begin with. 

This time was very different. Scott had gotten someone killed. Their only lead into why the Alphas were helping the Witches. Now dead and no longer a viable source of information. An innocent life gone. How his dad knew it was Scott’s fault was beyond him.

No, that was harsh. It was equal parts his fault they failed. Everyone had a job in the plan so it was all of their fault, really. The plan was what got their insider killed. 

Alison planned it like an ambush. Using Stiles as the bait, the guy Stiles had been in contact with would lure the Alphas into a mountain ash ring that Alison would close after they had stepped into it. A smaller ring was around Stiles to protect him if the Alphas decided to attack him without warning. Being trapped in a small circle while everyone else was fighting was his first objection to the terrible plan. The Alphas were being controlled by someone else, most likely the Coven. What Alison didn’t think about, unlike Stiles, was the fact that the Alphas would most likely have someone with them. Instead of going for him, however, they took out Stiles’ contact after realizing it was a set up, and got away. 

It wasn’t going to work from the start. Stiles said that but no one listened. They just assumed Alison knew what she was doing because she is the daughter of the werewolf hunter so obviously she knew better. As if the Alphas would have fallen for the childish set up. They were working for the Coven, of course they would have sent one of the witches with them. They would have been able to smell everyone surrounding them on top of that. There were too many flaws and too many ways it could have gone wrong and unfortunately it did in the worst possible way. He should have tried to persuade them harder. Again, he was just the pathetic human with no fighting skills or coordination, the kid that can’t protect himself and is constantly the victim. What did he know?

A lot more than them, it would seem.

“What ya thinking about?” His dad’s question threw him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Surely his dad couldn’t read minds. Though sometimes it seemed like it, and with all the supernatural in this town Stiles wouldn’t pass it by him. He seriously hoped John couldn’t. That would cause all sorts of uncomfortable situations. 

John smiled weakly at Stiles’ jerky twist and wide eyed expression. “You looked like you were trying to glare the dash into flames.”

“Oh, yeah. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess.” 

“Well we’re home now, so… how ‘bout you take your mind off of things and put it to smothering waffles in bacon grease?” John said as he got out of the car, looking back through the door.

That sounded like a plan he was so up for. He was about to scold his dad for not eating healthy and warn him of his cholesterol levels, but quickly decided that one day wouldn’t hurt him. “Let’s – yeah. Let’s do that. That sounds so much better than thinking right now,” he said, scrambling out of the car and rushing excitedly after John.

All thoughts about Scott vanished when the first drop of sweet heaven kissed his mouth. If there was one thing his dad was an expert at, it was waffles. Sure, he was great at everything and even better at some things, like being a cop, but he was an expert when it came to making melt in your mouth, soul cleansing, waffles. 

With his arm in a sling and cast it was slightly more difficult to get food from his plate to his mouth. It only took him four attempts this time instead of the previous twelve. 

“You look like you could do with some help.” John stood up and made his way around the table to help him, cutting up his food for him and pushing his chair in further. 

“Thanks.” John made his way back to his seat on the other side of the table with a fond smile playing at his lips. Stiles thought of it as his father’s ‘My son is awesome’ smile. “What did the doctor say?” Being too focused on last night and Scott being a terrible friend, his broken arm didn’t get a single thought. The pain killers also helped.

John bobbed his head and finished his mouthful. “Clean break, through the ulna, and small fracture in the radius. Said you’ll be in that thing for a couple months but it should heal right back into place. He also said the usual of not getting it wet and to minimize the amount of strain you put onto it. You’ve got a check-up appointment next month just to see how it’s all healing.” Another great thing about having a cop dad is that they tell you the facts and recall information almost perfectly. Or maybe that’s just his dad because he knows to cover all question bases before Stiles has a chance to assault him with them. “With the pain meds, he said to take them when needed, but no more than three a day.” He gave an authoritative glare, pointing his knife to reinforce the unspoken, threat. 

He scoffed. The mouth on this one, he thought. “I know proper conduct when it comes to prescription medication, thank you very much. How dare you imply otherwise? I’ll have you know I am a very responsible young adult and the mere fact of your insinuation otherwise, further cements my, very valid and accurate, point of your trust issues. You should really see someone about that, it isn’t healthy.” He said with an air of hurt and false superiority. 

“Me not wanting you to stay up until all manner of hours in the early morning has nothing to do with this, and anyway if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t have a car or license. He went back to cutting his bacon, closing any argument and making Stiles huff. It was an ongoing argument for Stiles to have no curfew. “Besides, I was more referring to selling them to kids at school in your drug ring business,” he said mocked.

Stiles squinted at him and imitated a mafia boss’s voice, “You have no proof, filthy pig, who squealed?” John over looked his foul mouth and laughed. “You think this is a laughing matter? I’ll show you a laughing matter!” he cried, stealing his dad’s last waffle, earning him an icy glare. “Who’s laughing now, old man?”

John, used to his son’s thievery of food, shook his head and chuckled. “Come on, hurry up or you’ll be late for school and I’ll be late for work.” 

“No way. You’re still making me go?” he protested.

“Just because you have a broken arm, doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. You can still go to school, you’ll just have to adapt to writing with your left hand instead of your right.” Stiles groaned. “Hurry up, it’s nearly nine,” John said as he got up to put his dishes in the sink. “I’ll be doing a double tonight so you’ll have to sort yourself out.”  
That late already? Where has this morning gone? Sure enough, the microwave clock indicated that it was quarter to nine.

John popped his head back around the corner as Stiles called over his shoulder, “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?” 

Stiles stood to face him, “What put you in the mood to cook all of a sudden?” He tried to keep the worry off his face as best he could, keeping his tone as nonchalant as he could. 

He shrugged. “Just wanted waffles and knew that if I gave you a choice, you’d kick up a fuss and lecture me about my heart giving out.” It seemed fair enough. Stiles probably would have done that exact thing so he could see the logic.

“Oh, fair enough. So, no big news then?” 

John smiled and shook his head, “No Stiles. No big news.” He left to get ready for work, leaving Stiles to clean the kitchen. 

It didn’t take him long and when Stiles was done he rushed to brush his teeth and made it to school in record time. So speedy at doing the dishes and getting to school that when he realized his phone was still in his room it was too late. Class had already started.

***

His morning had gone slowly. Scott tried to talk to him as he got to school, but he ignored him. A few people asked about his arm, and he made up some elaborate story closely resembling Oceans Thirteen, which no one bought. The group tried questioning him also, which he ignored. Lydia, going one step further, offered him help. He was tempted to take her up on this rare and possibly once in a life time offer, but the man in him wouldn’t let his pride go so he ignored her, too. So when lunch came he was more than relieved. 

People kept bumping his arm in the halls. It wasn’t on purpose in most cases, but it was still painful none the less. By the time he got from his locker to his spot in the library, he was tired and sore. Sharp stabs of pain shot up his arm as he sat down a bit too heavily, the force jostling his arm. He ate his lunch and popped some meds. The pain killers his doctor prescribed and an Adderall. Took out his laptop and gave it some love. 

With all the missing people lately, Stiles has been researching nonstop, trying to piece together anything he could find from what he has learnt so far. It was a process of throwing information at the wall and seeing what stuck.

So far there have been four people reported missing. Stiles started with looking at the police reports - another great perk of having a sheriff dad - and finding any other connecting dots. There was no forced entry. Whoever is taking these people left no trace of their involvement.

None of it was adding up for him. No motive, no demands or threats and no strings to connect the dots. It all seemed like random abductions by the same person or group. Stiles knew that the Coven had something to do with it but he just didn’t know how. Why would a group of powerful magic users kidnap all of these seemingly innocent people?

Could they be doing it as some form of power display? A threat to not mess with them, maybe. No, they couldn’t be that simple. 

He was just about to look at some more minor details, when the bell to signal the end of lunch made him jump, hitting his arm on the table and causing a new wave of pain to tear through his right arm. “Damn dirty ape!” he hissed before packing his bag and moving to his next class. 

“Stiles, can you just talk to me?” He didn’t even need to turn around to know that it was Scott. Upon hearing his voice Stiles immediately bristled and started to walk faster, only for Scott to grab him by the unbroken arm and spin him around. Stupid wolves and their stupid speed and strength. “I was looking for you all lunch. I was really worried, I thought they might have grabbed you… or something.”

“Or something,” he replied coldly while shrugging Scott off. “But hey! I’m just completely helpless and need bodyguards with teeth and claws. No it’s fine, Scott, of course I need you. I’m just human.” His voice was laden with sarcasm before dropping back to a cold and clipped tone. “Don’t you get it? It’s not all about you. And don’t try that ‘worried guilt trip’ crap! I don’t want to talk to you. Not until you realize the asset I am and start agreeing with my plans, that won’t get us all killed.”

Scott recoiled and glared in return. “So that’s what it’s about.” 

“Yes!” Stiles yelled. Finally getting somewhere. 

“You’re jealous that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

“No!”

“Yeah, you don’t like it that I picked Alison over you!” Stiles went to protest and put him back on the right track but he was cut off. “You don’t trust her because her family hunt wolves. You wanted to get all the attention but I stole that from you by going with Alison’s plan.”

“And look where that plan got us, Scott! Look, if you think that, whatever, I don’t have the time to keep up with your made up fairy tales. I am perfectly content with being single, I’m awesome enough as it is, and I don’t give two asses about you and her. You just don’t get it.” He went to turn away but Scott pulled him back.

“Then tell me!” 

This was going nowhere. “I. Just. Did.” 

Scott shook his head and folded his arms. “Fine. If you won’t be straight with me, then fine. I won’t talk to you. I’ll give you some space to cool off and to get over yourself. Then you can come back and apologize for being a stuck up shit. Then maybe next time we can go with your plan.” Stiles was about ready to punch him in the face. Was Scott really this thick, or was he completely unaware of how he treats Stiles like dirt, all the time. 

“There won’t be a next time. I’m late for class.” This time Scott let him go. It was hard to hold his nerve and not turn back to apologize, right there and then, from the look Scott just gave him. He looked like a kicked puppy, starved and left in the rain. Stiles needed to do this. He is sick of being undervalued and treated like he doesn’t matter. Once he cracks this case and destroys the Coven, maybe then they’ll see. 

So what if he is defenseless right now? He may be human and have a broken arm, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. Okay, it sounds pretty bad when put like that. Stiles resolved right there and then, on his way to class, that he will do this by himself if he had too and get stronger. He’ll learn self-defense and find some ways to be a bad-ass non-wolf ninja. Chris might be just the man he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to distance Scott a bit in this fic because I personal don't think I could write him into character very well. Doesn't mean I don't love our goofy love ball. Happy endings I promise. They make up but... not for a long time yet. Please don't hate me. Isaac come in next chapter.


	3. Rude Awakening.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac shows his tender side.

Isaac sat down beside him in his next class. Stiles ignored him until their teacher sat down and told them to get to work. “What do you want?” he spat.

Stiles’ icy tone and glare didn’t seem to faze him, he shrugged and looked over at him, “Nothing… just wanted to see how you were doing.” Looking pointedly at his arm. Definitely trying to get information for Scott. Well it won’t work.

“Tell Scott to piss of and leave me alone.” Isaac looked confused but Stiles turned back to his work. Done with the conversation and the spy sitting next to him.

“No, really. I just wanted to make sure your arm wasn’t anything serious.” 

“Sure.”

Isaac shrugged again and turned away. “Suit yourself.” 

Why is he acting nice all of a sudden? There has to be some other side angle here. He and Stiles hardly talk. Why, of all people, would Isaac care about his arm?

He ignored it and finished his work. Not looking forward to the hell that will be the halls after school. His arm was already starting to hurt again. He pushed this to the side and focused on his work as best he could. 

When the bell rang and everybody rushed to leave, Stiles hung back packing his things as slowly as he could, stalling until the halls were less populated. Isaac was about to walk off when he noticed Stiles being slower than normal. “Here, did you need a hand?” He reached to help but Stiles swatted him away. 

Touching his things like he was some invited guest, “I’m fine. Thank you very much.” Isaac shrugged but otherwise didn’t move. 

“Just thought you were struggling, is all.”

“Yeah, well I’m not, it’s called stalling, procrastination, waiting. The thing you do to give yourself more time before having to do something else. In my case, it’s leaving.” 

Isaac gave him a funny look, “Why? You normally can’t wait to ‘Escape the bars of social conformity’… or whatever it is you say.” His impression of Stiles was terrible. 

He made an indignant huff, “I do not sound like that and I do not wave my hands that much.” Obviously something Stiles said was funny because Isaac was now laughing.

“You just did, while saying that.”

“Laugh it up, buttercup. Normally, yes, I can’t wait to leave this hell hole but I’m waiting for the halls to clear out a bit.” Why did he care any way and why is Stiles talking to him. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

Isaac gave him another funny look, “Why the hell not?” It was weird, he actually sounded offended. 

“Well, you know, ‘cause you guys are all assholes and didn’t listen to me and got that guy killed and I’m sick of everyone treating me like some….” He struggled to think of an accurate comparison. When nothing came to mind, he relented and sighed, “Treating me like shit.” 

Isaac looked ready to turn, “Don’t include me in that shit. Maybe you forgot but I was with you the whole way. Alison’s plan was rubbish. Just because you’re mad at Scott for being a lousy friend doesn’t mean you should exclude yourself completely.” 

Stiles was thrown. He was right though. Just because Scott never listened it doesn’t mean that all of his friends were bad, “Ah, sorry dude. I um… didn’t know you felt like that.” Stiles was suddenly really embarrassed for thinking badly of Isaac to start with.

As quickly as the anger came it fled. Isaac shrugged and lent against the desk, “Figures.” Stiles continued packing his bag, expecting Isaac to leave, but he stayed lent against the desk watching him. “You sure you don’t need a hand?” 

“Didn’t we just discuss this? I am more than capable to pack my bag. I don’t need you watching me like I might break at any moment.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t offer you help.” Isaac smiled and took Stiles’ bag before he could pick it up. “Asshole.” He said almost jokingly while walking away.

“What the hell are you doing? Give back my bag, you pompous git!” he exclaimed while trying to catch up.

“Nope. You didn’t let me help so this is the alternative.” 

Isaac was being weird. He has never been this nice or ‘helpful’ before. In the whole time they have known each other they have probably spoken no more than five times without being in a group conversation, and even then it’s only quick Q&A’s during a class if the other missed something. “Did Scott put you up to this? Ask you to hang around me and protect me but make it look like you’re just being nice?” There was no other explanation, right?

He spun around so fast that Stiles nearly walked into him. “Why is it so hard for you to accept that maybe I just want to be closer to you?!” There was a brief moment of surprise, as if he didn’t mean to say that. His ears took on a slightly pink tint, as did his cheeks. “I mean… no. I was just trying to be a nice guy and help a cripple.” 

Stiles spluttered, “A cripple?” He grabbed his bag and unceremoniously stormed off while throwing over his shoulder, “You can shove the nice guy act up your ass. ‘Cripple,’ he says. Well… I’ll show you. It’s a broken arm, not a missing limb.”

He didn’t get very far before Isaac had caught up, sniggering all the way. “It was a joke. Lighten up, grey goose.” Stiles ignored him. “Seriously, you act worse than a child.” He refused to rise to the bait any longer. “There is nothing wrong with accepting help. Even when you are an invalid.” He continued to ignore him. “Would you like an apology?” He made a small huff and made to walk faster, to be mocked no longer. “Stiles, I’m sorry for calling you a cripple and an invalid.” 

“That’s a start.” 

Isaac just laughed and patted him on the back, moving past him. “Stop sulking. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He made off down the rest of the hall at a slow jog and out the entrance. 

Stiles didn’t know how to feel. Surprised was the main one right now. Isaac was surprisingly funny when he wanted to be. They had never been that close before. Stiles just hasn’t really had a chance to get to know him properly. Something that he said echoed in the halls of his mind ‘Maybe I just want to be closer to you?’ Stiles couldn’t blame him really. Who wouldn’t want to be close friends with him? He was amazing. 

***  
Deathly quiet greeted him as he walked through his front door. Driving with a broken arm was harder than he first thought, but he was starting to get the hang of it. John was doing a double tonight so he was on his own. As has been the norm lately. Nearly every cop in town has had to start working double time to catch the perp stealing people from their beds. Extra patrols, more people on call and long hours to make a break in trying to solve all of this means the time has got to come from somewhere and unfortunately for John a lot of that comes from his and his deputies’ free time.

With nothing better to do, Stiles went to his room and immersed himself in the bliss that is lost sleep. Considering that he didn’t get more than a few hours’ sleep, at home and the hospital, it was safe to say that he was exhausted. So exhausted that he slept through until the next morning. 

Before getting ready for the new day he plugged in his flat and abandoned phone. Immediately met with what seemed like hundreds of missed calls and messages. From Scott, Alison, Isaac, Derek and even Peter. Mostly from the other day. Only a couple from yesterday and last night. Peter had called him last night. Peter never called him. Something must be seriously wrong if Peter was calling him. His normal trepidation and unease about the guy was completely forgotten and replaced with fear and mild curiosity. 

Peter answered on the second ring, far too cheery for eight in the morning, “Stiles, good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure on this lovely Friday morning?” Leave it to Peter to ignore the fact that everybody wanted him dead. Stiles being at the top of that list. His whole attitude just screamed ‘mass murderer’. If Stiles didn’t know better he would accuse Peter of being the culprit for all the missing people. Maybe he was. Stiles noted to himself to look into that later.  
“What’s wrong?” Peter’s carefree behavior didn’t do anything to help calm his already racing heart. Anything could have happened. His brain was immediately jumping to the worst conclusions. 

“Why must something be wrong for me to call my favorite spaz in the world and see how he is?” He could think of at least a thousand reasons why.

He wasn’t buying it, no longer worried about a life or death situation but still on edge knowing that Peter was up to something, “You nearly killed me, multiple times, on more than one occasion. How the hell could you willingly admit to falling for my charming sense of character?” he asked incredulously, ignoring the small intended insult, already knowing that Peter despises anything Stiles related.

Peter’s laugh over the line made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was triggering his flight or fight instincts, causing a small shudder of repulsion to wash over him. “Oh Stiles, a few minor bumps in the road is nothing serious. No, all joking aside, I was genuinely concerned for you. I wanted to see how you are, what with you finally breaking away from the pack, and a little bird in the shape of Scott told me you had broken your arm. What caused that glorious happenstance?” 

Stiles hung up. If he wasn’t going to be truthful and was trying to get information to give to Scott, he can suck an egg. It was early and he didn’t need Peter to ruin his whole day for him simply by speaking before the day had even begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.. I'm really trying to get this up quickly but my internet is being an asshole.
> 
> Hope this little tidbit of Stiles and Isaac is enough to get you through the next couple of minuets until the next upload.   
> Next chapter gets ruff. A heads up for that one. Coarse language and Scott pulls the last straw.   
> Again I'm sorry for making him out to be the bad guy. The next chapter will give you a better idea. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. Hope you do for a long time yet.


	4. Cross over.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is a terrible friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned there is some heavy stuff in this chapter. This is a longer chapter because I love you and its also a way to try and make up for what I may more may not put you through.

Small, fluffy clouds hung low in the bright morning sky as Stiles made his way to his first class, promising rain later. On top of everything that is happening at the moment — missing people, Alphas out for Scott and a Coven of witches creeping around town doing God knows what — Peter is planning something, and it worried Stiles more than anything else. Being both crazy and erratic made him all the more unpredictable.

Isaac didn’t speak to him but gave him a warm smile when Stiles walked into class and sat down. Scott was following his every move with a glare that could rival even some of Lydia’s. If there was anything that annoyed Scott, more than being ignored, it was not being in the know. He hates not knowing everything that’s going on around him. Knowing that he can’t find out what happened to Stiles was probably killing him. He is too curious for his own good. Much like himself.

One week ago, today, Stiles can remember being approached at the library by a stranger and his curiosity got the better of him. He was sitting in the back corner of Beacon Hill Public Library after school, trying to get some work done for Mr. Harris that he had missed in class, when a man dressed in khakis and a dark floral shirt with long blond hair sat down beside him, handed him a note and walked away. Being completely confused and beyond curious about the weird encounter caused Stiles to look around. To see if anyone else had just seen what he saw. The note was to arrange a meeting. 

Being who he is, and knowing the town, urged him to meet with this guy. They met at the library two days later on the Sunday. Of course Stiles told people where he was and told Scott what had happened in case he went missing like the others. Scott had told him not to go, that it was a trap and he was going to be killed, then tried to bargain having someone there with him just to make sure, to all of which Stiles refused. It wasn’t because he didn’t agree with him or not want someone there, it was more that Stiles knew if someone else was with him and the strange man saw he would walk away never to be seen again and he would have no idea what the guy wanted. 

What he wanted was not what Stiles had in mind. He was surprisingly nice and friendly. Stiles was no idiot so just because of that fact he was even more suspicious of the guy than he was prior. They spoke for a good few hours. Starting awkwardly, but soon they both relaxed and Stiles was able to say that he sort of enjoyed talking to him. Every interaction after that only further cemented the friendly encounters. Stiles won’t admit this to anyone but he was actually staring to grow attached to the guy and they didn’t even know each other’s names.

They spoke about school work and completely innocent little things like one another’s fears and dreams. They spoke about the Coven and Stiles found out that he was a part of it. In total they met four times. Each time speaking more and more freely with each other. Stiles was, however, very careful not to talk about Scott or any of his other friends. Even the fact that he knew werewolves and was friends with them wasn’t shared, though he guessed the other man knew. The man revealed that he wanted to make the Coven better and the only way he saw to do that was to get rid of all the bad people in it, including the Alphas. After every meeting Stiles would report to Scott and tell him anything new that he learned. 

The last time Stiles ever saw him was dead at his feet, ripped to shreds, with parts of his small intestine spilling out from said gash marks. The images assaulted him and made him jump. Glazed eyes staring back at him. Guilt for getting the man killed gripped his lungs. His vison blurred at the edges as he tried to push the onslaught of stomach-turning memories from his mind. It was hard but after a few moments he succeeded. He looked around the room gauging whether or not anyone noticed, which it seemed they hadn’t, before focusing back on his work. 

After the flashbacks it was increasingly harder for him to concentrate or focus for large amounts of time without being taken back to that night in his vivid memories. The agonizing screams of someone having their body turned inside out with claws. Cries of betrayal and frustration as blood was sprayed across his face. He shut his eyes fiercely trying to calm his mind and think about something else. It was his fault. It was all his fault that this man died, no that was ripped to shreds, because his friends didn’t trust him enough to listen to him. 

A cold sweat clung to him and made his shirt heavy. No, this is not happing at school. He will not have a panic attack right now. After primary school he promised himself it will never happen in public again. Deep breaths. Calm down. 

He bit down on his cheeks and drew large shaky breaths through his nose. Holding them for as long as he could before letting them out through his mouth. His eyes were still sealed shut afraid to open them and meet the eyes of everyone around him. He was more than happy to pretend they aren’t there for now. To pretend he was alone in his room.

Slowly and painfully he was able to get his breathing back under control. It was a few more moments before he was able to open his eyes again. As he did, he was, to no surprise, met with the heavy gaze of concerned people around him. The heaviest of them all coming from over his left shoulder, Scott. He couldn’t look, and didn’t want too. Isaac was a close second. Danny, next to him, placed a warm hand on his arm and lent over, whispering quietly so as not to draw any more attention to them. “Stiles, are you alright?” 

His voice wasn’t working yet, all he could do as way of reply was nod. 

“Are you sure, what just happened?” Danny has always been a good guy, always taking care of others, worrying about people even when he didn’t exactly know them personally. 

Stiles cleared his throat, making sure his voice wouldn’t crack or waver, before replying “Yeah, nah. I’m sorry… just not feeling the best, is all.” He didn’t want to say too much, knowing that Scott and Isaac were listening to his every word. He tried to give Danny a reassuring smile but knew that it fell short. Danny wasn’t convinced - with his poor act, Stiles couldn’t blame him - but he didn’t push the subject any further, much to the relief of Stiles.

Danny gave him a knowing smile and went back to his work, removing his hand from Stiles’ arm. He hadn’t notice the warmth of it and the comfort it provided until it was gone. All Danny said was, “I’m always willing to talk, even if you’re not.” And didn’t say anything else to him for the rest of the class. Now and then he would pass concerned glances his way or somehow try to provide comfort, in forms of smiles and light touches, whenever Stiles caught him staring.

Eyes bore into the back and side of his head from across the room. 

To escape those stares and any unwanted questions after class, Stiles quickly packed his things and moved as fast as he could without bumping his arm, dodging and weaving through the sea of pubescent teens. Coach would have been proud. He successfully made it through the rest of his classes that morning without bumping into any of his friends and ignoring Scott. He wasn’t so lucky in his last class of the day. Chemistry with Mr. Harris. Isaac, Alison, Scott and Lydia were all in this class. He swallowed thickly and entered the lion’s den. Better late than never. May as well just get this over with.

Before his ass had even hit his seat, Lydia pounced. “Isaac told us you had a breakdown in class. Why?” As tactful as ever, he thought coldly.

Isaac squirmed when Stiles wrathful fury met his staring. Stiles looked back to Lydia with as fake a smile he could produce. “Lydia. Gorgeous day, isn’t it? Lovely to see you, too! Glad you seem to be well and in high spirits.” He knew he was stalling for time, hoping to drag out having to explain himself as long as he could, hopefully if he did it for long enough they would give up and leave him alone. He knew it was a long shot but he could still try.

Alison sat on his other side while Scott sat at the far end of the bench on her right. He was trapped between the four of them. There was no escape. “There is honestly no point in trying to dodge it Stiles, just tell us what’s going on so we can help you.” She flicked a stray lock of gold hair over her shoulder. Their expressions ranging from guilty to angry and indifferent. 

Stiles took out his books before replying. “Wow,” he shook his head disbelievingly toward her, “and here I am with the impression you were smarter than me.” Lydia bristled at the insult. “Honestly, if you haven’t figured it out yet then there is no point in spelling it out for you.” 

“Stop being dramatic. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be.” She dropped her air of superiority, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, for his ears only, though with werewolves around that is never the case. “Please just let us help you… let me help you. I wasn’t there and I only have half the story. Stiles, don’t shut us out, be mad at Scott, whatever but don’t exclude yourself from all of us.” The idea of Isaac talking to him yesterday ‘just because he wanted to’ is starting to sound more like a lie.

They both spoke the truth, he knew that, but he can’t accept the fact of getting anyone else hurt. Accepting the fact that they were right still doesn’t mean he wants to talk about it or his panic attack. Maybe when he isn’t still so on edge he might talk to her about it. In all the group, if anyone could understand breakdowns, it was Lydia that would understand, and maybe Derek.

All eyes were on him, waiting for a reply. “Okay.” He put his hand over Lydia’s and patted it a few times before continuing, “Just not right now. I’m still not feeling that great.” They seemed to relax at his words. Isaac smiled brightly, almost blindingly, Alison rubbed his other arm and Lydia pulled him into a half embrace.

“So, does that mean you’re finally going to apologise to me now?” 

Stiles tensed at Scott’s cold words, feeling the rage building again. Lydia must have felt it because she stepped in before he could tell Scott when he can put his expectations. “Right now it means that he is going to talk to me later tonight when I stay at his house.” Stiles, along with Isaac and Alison, asked in unison, “It does?” while Stiles gaped at her and continued with, “You are?” The interruption didn’t seem to faze her as she carried on without pause, “Seems me and Stilinski have some catching up to do.”

Something about the way she said that seemed like a threat and made him gulp, his throat suddenly incredibly dry. Isaac picked up on it too, giving him a mournful nod. 

Scott wasn’t going to let this slide. “Oh? So he has a “break down” and everyone falls at his feet, is that it?” He used air quotes correctly for the first time. In any other situation Stiles would be fist bumping him and showering him with praise but the fact that he was implying that Stiles faked having a panic attack broke any remaining friendship they had.

Alison gasped while Isaac, and surprisingly Lydia, growled at him in warning. Stiles clenched his fist to stop himself from beating Scott within an inch of his life, lycanthropy be dammed. It took everything he had not to shout and distract the class. “You think people have panic attacks for attention?” His tone was glacial, eyes burning. 

Scott snorted. “No. I think you have panic attacks to get attention,” he said through clenched teeth, meeting Stiles’ glare. When he did he faltered slightly, only for a brief second, before regaining his angry front. Stiles was glad that at least he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore him as a potential threat completely. 

Lydia’s hand tightened on his shoulder, Isaac’s chair pushed back, possibly now standing but Stiles couldn’t be sure not wanting to take his eyes away from Scott’s. Almost sweetly, Alison turned to Scott, “I have panic attacks, sometimes about my mother. Does that mean if I were to have one now, you would think the same way towards me?” It was a low blow but he deserved it. This new information was news to all of them and Scott was taken back the most. He visibly recoiled away from her before meeting her eyes and pleading for forgiveness. Alison ignored him and cut him off, her voice taking on a tone of pure, unadulterated fury. “Don’t you ever say something like that again, to anyone. People can’t help how their brains work. Or in your case, when it doesn’t.” She turned back to Stiles with soft eyes and placed a hand on his. Scott’s eyes were immediately drawn to the touch, before rising to meet Stiles’ gaze. 

Before Alison could say anything more Scott yelled, “Now it all makes perfect sense! You can’t get one of your own so you try to steal mine!” More than a few people were staring at him. This made Stiles and the rest of them anxious, if Isaac moving to take Scott out of the class to calm down was anything to go by. All the while Scott struggled against him, “Yeah, now I see your end game. I hate you!” Stiles flinched. “No wonder your mom left you. She probably couldn’t wait to get away from her disgusting excuse for a son.” His words were like venom, the more you tried to reject it the faster it spread through your body. “She was probably embracing death like a long lost friend when she was finally free from you. Go fuck yourself, you dirty lying freak!” Isaac got him out the door but not before he spat and confirmed Stiles’ worst fears, “You’re worthless, I never liked you from the start! I was only your friend because I pitied your sorry excuse for existence.”

All the other things he said could be ignored, even though they hurt, but the last two sentences broke him. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks while he sat glaring at his books. It still hurt, more than it should be possible, to have Scott spit words so venomously toward him. The look in his eyes was so distant and laced with disgust that Stiles knew his words were true. People show their true colors when you least expect it. Even though he now knew that the last eleven years of his life with his best friend, his brother, were a lie, it was refreshing to know the truth. 

Every word was like a shard of ice, forcing its way deeper into his chest, settling around his heart. Confirming his already frequent thoughts and further cementing his beliefs about himself. Reaping around his brain, so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything else. He was cold and shacking. For the second time that day he broke down. Silently agreeing with every word Scott said. He knew he was worthless. That his mother gave up because she was ashamed of her son. All he ever did was lie to people to stop them from asking him questions. Scott never loved him. A pity case was all he was to the other boy. All the nights Scott spent staying up with him, after his mother’s death, and distracted him so that he wouldn’t have to sleep and have nightmares or the words of affection and comfort he would spew in the darkness were all lies. Every embrace behind closed doors wasn’t something they shared and cherished but was Scott putting up with Stiles’ made up fantasies that he actually cared about him.

Mr. Harris dismissed him on the agreement of speaking with him next week. Stiles agreed because he would have agreed to anything if it meant he didn’t have to sit in class with eyes on him as tears forced their way down his cheeks. 

“Stiles I won’t let you drive not like this.” Lydia protested. He didn’t care. So what if he couldn’t see properly. He said as much and she all but nearly slapped him, “Don’t you ever say something like that again. You may not care about your own safety but you won’t be the only one affected if something were to happen. Think about how your dad would feel being called to a car crash and finding his son was involved and now dead. Think of the families that would lose someone they loved because you were too selfish and proud to let me drive.” He knew all this. He had thought about all of this and the more she spoke the more he kept nodding he head. All he could do was agree with her. 

She spoke to Alison briefly before meet up with him down the hall. Scott and Isaac were standing not too far away from the door hissing toward each other. He didn’t even look up when they stopped as he walked past them. Scott went to say something to him but Lydia blocked his way, “You’ve said enough.” Isaac stopped holding Scott against the wall when he sagged against it. 

Isaac called out just as they made it to Lydia’s car. “Wait up.” He stopped at Stiles’ side not waiting a second to envelope him into a tight hug. Stiles stiffened at the embrace, unsure how to react, when Isaac whispered into his ear, “Please don’t close yourself off because of him. Please…” he pleaded as he clung tighter. Stiles just stood there, shocked out of his grief and self-hate, now just confused and slightly warmed by the fact that Isaac was holding him and apologising for something he couldn’t change or repent for. “He may not care about you but I always will.” He said it so quietly that if he wasn’t speaking directly into Stiles ear, and if Stiles wasn’t listening intently to him on bated breath, he would have missed it. It was nothing to do with him, but here he is, consoling Stiles. He didn’t let go until Stiles made a hesitant and small nod. “I’m sorry he said those things to you. Just please remember what I said.” He finely spoke normally, holding him at arm’s length and searching his eyes from the truth. 

Lydia cleared her throat. “Stiles, let’s go.” He was torn between staying with Isaac or do as she said. He refused to over analyse what that meant right now. Isaac was just being a care friend. At the way he’s going and how honest he is being, Stiles would hazard a guess and say that he and Isaac will be very great friends. They were very similar in their interest and he needed more friends. Scott just admitted that they never were so it will be good to finally experience what real friendship is like. 

They separated and Stiles followed Lydia’s lead. Putting his bag on the backseat before sitting in the front passenger side. When he looked up to say goodbye, Isaac had turned around and started walking. 

“What was that? I never know you and Isaac were so close.”

He replied on autopilot, “We aren’t.” before realizing how that may have looked and sounded, “I mean… we are but—not yet or, no. We aren’t exactly close friends, or even friends yet but Isaac told me yesterday that he wanted to be my friend. I don’t really see why that would be a problem so I agreed, well he didn’t really give me a choice. Either way now that Scott is dead to me I see no harm in having other friends.” He knew he was rambling but couldn’t stop, “He is also really nice, like who does that? That was seriously great of him. I wonder if it was as awkward for him as it was for me, I mean he just hugged me out of nowhere and I was so surprised, but not really because werewolves are always quite tactful aren’t they? If he was crying and upset Id hug him too. Yeah, what a guy, better than that asshole who I refuse to acknowledge, oh wait I am now just by thinking that…” he turned to make eye contact with Lydia because it felt strange to speak to someone without looking at them, “and why are you looking at me like that?” She seemed to jump when she realized he was looking at her, a split second of surprise.

“Like what? I’m not looking at you strangely, in fact,” she turned to start driving, “I’m not looking at you at all. How’s that?” 

“No, you were just looking at me with a weird, knowing expression… or something.”

Silence was his only reply, he thought she wasn’t going to answer at all when nearly half way to his house she spoke again. “I just think it’s cute, is all.” 

Her vague answer confused him more, “What’s cute? The hell are you talking about?” 

“You, you’re cute.” He blushed profusely from her words and then at the effect they had on him. “I like you smile. You should do it more.” She was doing this on purpose he thought, distracting him with complements. 

Finally snapping out her bewitching words as he realized this, “Hey, no, not so fast you silky minx. What were you talking about? My rambling is not cute. So why say it is unless you’re trying to lead me away from the actual topic at hand which is Isaac and me becoming his friend. Again I don’t see how anything you refer to could be “cute”.” She looked on in stunned silence, “Thought you could pull the wool over my eyes huh?” She shook her head and continued to drive.

“Sometimes you are too perspective for your own good and other times you are as oblivious as Sc…” before she could finish Stiles cut her off with a finger aimed at the side of her head and a pointed look at the side glances.

“Don’t you dare say the word I think you’re about to.” 

Silence fell on them again. This time it lasted for no more than a minute before Lydia cleared her throat, “Right well… I made my point all the same.” They were about five blocks away from Stiles home. He really didn’t feel like being there right now. Scott’s words were still clinging to him no matter how much he tried to distract himself with thoughts of Isaac and Lydia. 

“Can we go somewhere?” 

Obviously thrown by the abrupt change in topic, Lydia spluttered, “Sure, where do you want to go?” 

“Anywhere, surprise me.” ‘Just not home. I don’t want to be reminded about any of that right now’ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. So very sorry. Please don't hate me. Next Chapter is the last for tonight and this week. Not sure how many ill upload next week but it may only be one. Hopefully that end bit made up for my anti-Scott slam.   
> Kudos and comments are so very welcome. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH!!


	5. No doubts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac finally gets a say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've heard a lot from Stiles, now lets see what Isaac is thinking.

It can’t be true. There must be some other solution. The feelings he is experiencing are simply hormones and they will pass in time. Yeah, that’s all it is, of course. Sure Stiles may give him butterflies but it’s not like he’s attracted to the guy. Right? Oh I don’t know any more! He’ll be fine it’s no big deal. Isaac thought as he had a slight freak out while walking away. Stiles had just gotten into the car with Lydia leaving him to walk as normal. 

He hugged Stiles because what Scott said was not something to be forgiven and Isaac knew that Stiles never will. Not after the sincerity in Scott’s words. He needed someone to be there for him right now. He needs a friend, not someone who is crushing on him, Isaac can handle that. It will pass, it has too, it always does. 

From a young age he had known that boys were more his thing but he has never and will never share that part of himself with anyone not even Stiles. In fifth grade there was a boy in the year above him that was always really friendly toward him. They never spoke but always smiled when passing each other or waved when they made eye contact across the school yard. One day the boy walked him home and they spoke for the first time. 

Every smile and every wave made warmth rush to his cheeks and tingles dance around his body. So when they walked home together it was a big deal. He was crushing on this boy so hard that the other boy did all the talking because he was too shy to say anything. The other boy thought he was scared about walking home or was upset because he wouldn’t speak so he held Isaac’s hand to try and comfort him. It made sparks rush up his arm and chills to prickle his sink. In that moment we was beyond happy. In that moment with his hand held so gently but yet so strongly he knew that it was meant to be.

His hand being held by another boys was so natural and so perfect that it made him realize that boys can love boys too. Just like a boy can love a girl, girls can love girls and boys can love boys.

When he got home that day his father must have seen them holding hands and got the wrong idea. That was the first and last time he ever held another boys hand. Something so innocent and gentle caused so much pain afterward.

After that day he pushed all thoughts about boys to the deepest darkest part of his brain. His father was so mad at the sight of the two of them. Isaac didn’t understand why. His father beat him. Called him names like ‘freak’, ‘sissy’ and said that no son of his will be a ‘fagot’. Forced him to change schools and was forced to start working at the cemetery after school so that he had no free time to make friends. 

He didn’t mind the work as much. It gave him something to do and help him get some of his frustrations out. But from that day on he promised himself to never share this with anyone for fear that they would react the same way. Loving another boy wasn’t natural, his father taught him that not everyone saw it as he did, so even if he thought otherwise, he will never tell anyone because people aren’t as accepting as he is.

What he is feeling for Stiles will never be returned so there is no point in trying to delude himself that he will ever have a chance. This was just another one of those times that he mistakes friendship for love. Even if he were to fall in love with Stiles it’s not like anyone besides him will know. Everyone assumes he is straight so all he has to do is not give them any suspicions otherwise. 

He can do this. Stiles needs a friend and Isaac is more than willing to be there for him. It wasn’t about his crush, this was for Stiles. Isaac knew more than anyone that isolating yourself was not the answer to make your problems go away.

Derek was sprawled on the couch when he walked through the door of their apartment. Isaac was finally able to convince Derek that living in an abandoned train wasn’t the best in the world and they moved into this industrial styled, open plan apartment, not too long ago. “Hey man. What ya watching?” he said as way of greeting as he dumped himself on the couch next to him.

“Some stupid documentary about the planets.” He turned it off with disgust. This was a common occurrence with them. Derek has started to open up to him more and actually care about his life. “How was school, learn anything new?” his expression was so open and earnest that Isaac would have mistaken it for something else if he didn’t know Derek saw him more as a son than anything else.

He shrugged, “Nah, but it was still interesting.” He tossed over his shoulder as he went to get a drink, “You want anything?”

“I’m fine.” Derek sat up and looked at him front on, still sitting on the couch, “Thanks though. What made today interesting and not yesterday?” one of his perfect brows rose, “Did Stiles and Scott finally make up.”

Isaac swallowed, sweet sugary goodness that is Dr. P tingling his throat, “No,” he shook his head, “Far from it actually.”

“Oh,” Derek was now moving into the kitchen, drawn by the curiosity to learn what happened, “Stiles or Scott’s fault?”

“Scott’s, definitely Scott’s.” He didn’t even need to think about that one. Both of Derek’s eyebrows rose this time, clearly surprised by this information, Isaac nodded to confirm his words, “Yeah, I know, he completely blew up at Stiles. See Stiles had some sort of panic attack during first period. Heart going crazy, sweating and shaking. The works man,” he shook his head again as the memories covered his eyes and lent against the counter, “it was scary.”

Derek nodded also. “I bet.” 

“Anyway, so, Danny was sitting next to him and was able to calm him down. He ignored us as usual and disappeared at lunch, like yesterday. None of us even know how he broke his arm yet.” Derek chuckled at Isaac's animated gestures. 

“He probably fell out of bed or ran into a wall or something.”

Isaac chuckled at that, imagining that happening perfectly, “Probably.” He took another sip of his drink before continuing, “Well in chemistry, my last class of the day, Lydia ambushes him. Obviously I told her what had happened at the start of the day because I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to get anything out of him, you know how he is,” Derek agreed but motioned for him to get to the point, “He wasn’t pleased with that, but it worked, he didn’t give us any details because I assume it was probably still a bit raw for him and there were lots of people around. Now this is the part you won’t believe. Scott accused Stiles of doing it to get attention, then when Alison shut him up and tried to console Stiles, he flipped. Absolutely went crazy.”

Derek was drawn back, shocked and spluttering, “What? But they’re like brothers… that makes no sense. Why is Scott making it worse?”

Isaac made a grim face and shrugged, “Got me beat. But that’s not even the worst part, Scott started calling him a filthy liar and a jealous freak. Said that Stiles was trying to steal Alison from him and turn everyone against him. I had to force him out of the class room. Holding him back so that he wouldn’t turn and attack anyone was hard enough.” 

This time Derek wasn’t surprised, or seem to be but he looked pensive, calculating, “Scott has never been like this. Why now? He knows, without a doubt, Stiles isn’t interested in Alison, or anyone I don’t think,” he added as an afterthought, “so why blow up like that? His control is better than even mine. It just doesn’t add up.”

This was all Isaac has been thinking about for the last week. Scott hasn’t been the same and he was glad that someone else is now starting to see that, “My thoughts exactly, but wait there’s more,” he cut Derek off before he spoke again, “He was horrible to Stiles, Derek you should have seen it, calling him a disgrace and that his mom was glad to get away from him. I don’t know the story there but Stiles broke and it wasn’t even because Scott spoke so appallingly of him or his mom, it was because Scott told him that he had never like him. That their whole friendship had been a lie because Scott pitted him.”

Derek let out a slow rumble. He could agree with him. Even just repeating the events made his nails itches with the want to turn into claws. He abruptly stood and made for the door, Isaac rushed to bloke his way for fear that he was going to go and kill Scott, he wasn’t the only one feeling that way if he was, “Where are you going? If you hurt Scott it will just make things worse.”

His brows met in the middle, scrunched together with his nose. “What… no I’m going to see if Stiles is alright.” 

That was not what Isaac was expecting, “Why do you care?”

Derek almost looked hurt, “I’m not heartless.” He moved past Isaac, he let him go. This was going to be interesting. 

Isaac felt a little jealous that Derek was going to be alone with Stiles and he wasn’t. He knows he has no right to be, Stiles and Derek have been friends for a pretty long time now, they got closer after Stiles saved his life on more than one occasion but that did nothing to stop Isaac's jealousy. Derek seems to have this idea in his head that he owes Stiles. In a way he dose but Stiles had told him that he didn’t need to worry about any sort of debt that he thought needed to be paid. Friends that care about each other don’t need an excuse to help each other out. 

Stiles honey doe eyes were so wide when he let him go. Wide with shock. It was a brief moment of weakness on his part. He couldn’t help himself. He just needed to feel the other boy close to him. Experience what it was like to be held by him. Isaac has spent countless hours, the last few weeks, fantasizing and daydreaming about the other boy. With his rosy full lips and his map of dots covering his skin and where those dots lead. Imagining the pale silk of his skin warm under his touch. 

Shaking his head to clear the images of a pale naked body wreathing from pleasure beneath him, he walked over to the couch and melted into the soft embrace, turning on the TV to distract himself further with hours of mindless and brain numbing Si-Fy shows. Thinking like that is dangerous. He needs to constantly remind himself that he is meant to be Stiles friend in a time of need. Not a love sick puppy frothing at the mouth every time he saw the brown haired, doe eyed sex god that is Stiles Stilinski. Easier said than done, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, soo so, soo much! This is the last chapter I'm putting up for now. Might take a brake for a while and see how we go. Hope you guys enjoy and please stick around. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments mean the world! 
> 
> Things are starting to shape up. Derek will get his turn.  
> Again all mistacks are mine and I apologize for them. Just let me know of any and I shall fix them up.   
> Would also love a beta if any one is interested?  
> Ill see you guys soon.


	6. Arrival

“How could they do this to me? I know… I’m sorry for dumping all this on you, especially after what happened today, listening to me complain and cry is probably the last thing you want to be doing.” Lydia laughed, a harsh and hollow sound, wiping her eyes and sniffing one last time. “Let’s get you back, shall we.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Stiles may be upset about Scott throwing the last eleven years in his face, and he may be hesitant to make new friends for a while but Lydia wasn’t really a ‘new’ friend, she was more a friend that he hadn’t spoken to for a really long time. Of course he wants to be her friend and he cares about her like a sister but he just isn’t ready to let anyone break down his walls. Not after the truth behind Scott’s words. It may take a day, or it may take the rest of his life, until he is ready to have the kind of connection he had with Scott with someone else. Just because he can’t open up to anyone yet doesn’t mean he wants to lose them completely either. This fact was the only one keeping him here. He cares about Lydia but that doesn’t mean he wants to be her crutch.

 

Lydia may say that she cares about him, and that all she wants is to be closer to him, and have someone she can turn to for everything, but isn’t that what Alison was for? He was under the impression that they were closer than even he and Scott were. He has seen another side to Lydia that is so vulnerable and open that it was slightly unsettling and hard not to believe she was being honest. To see someone who is almost always composed and the picture of dignified superiority break down into tears was an eye opener for sure.

 

Just as she turned the car on, he placed his hand on her shoulder, halting any action. This was going to be hard to explain, but he needed to be clear with her. “Just let me set things straight…” Holding eye contact made him squirm so he looked to the side, taking a few moments to arrange his thoughts. “This may sound harsh, and I really don’t want to hurt you or anything, far from it actually but I just need to… clear the air?” He let out a sigh. Lydia forced eye contact, moving her head so that their eyes met.

 

 

People did the same thing after his mother died. Gave him their word and promised to always be there for him but never really were. It was more to make themselves feel better about not really doing anything but still being able to say they offered. Knowing that Lydia needed this more than he did was what made him sigh in resignation and accept the fact that she meant well by what she was doing. He knew deep down that people cared, it was just harder some days to remember that.

 

She was having a hard time, too, what with her parents’ separation and losing her favourite nail polish, she needed him. “Sure. Thank you.” Her eyes brightened and her smile became more assured.

 

No one may be there for him but he is willing to make some sacrifices to help her all the same. She obviously felt like she couldn’t go to anyone else and he was convenient.

 

 _At least he was good for this_ , he thought dryly.

 

They drove back to the school in silence. Lydia turned to speak a few times, but both times she closed her mouth and swallowed her words.

 

When they got back to his Jeep he was more than relieved. Talking to Lydia and hearing all of her problems drained him more than he thought. He had explained to her about his arm, why he panicked in class and even confided in her about losing Scott but for the majority of their ‘heart to heart’ it was her crying about her parents’ divorce and a multitude of her other problems. She had confided in him and he valued that. He was warmed to know she valued him in a sense but he couldn’t find it in himself to sympathise for her right now.

 

With everything that was going on, her minor problems were the least of his worries. Thinking like that is selfish, he knew that, but he didn’t want to have to deal with all of this right after he had just learnt a big part of his life was a lie. Maybe after all of this business with the Alphas and the Coven is sorted he can focus more on helping others but right now all he could worry about his stopping whatever is going on.

 

They said their goodbyes, Lydia sped off before Stiles even made it half way to his jeep, honest proof she didn’t really care.

 

Why did he feel so alone? Why couldn’t Scott just have told him earlier or stopped talking to him a long time ago, all together? It would have saved them both all this hassle and maybe even help Stiles come to terms with the fact that he was simply other people’s band-aid. Scott was bitten because of him. He helped Scott with school work. He was there for Scott when his dad left. Scott was there for him when he needed him the most. He made sure Scott was never alone on the full moon. He saved Scott’s life when he was poisoned. He kept Scott out of trouble. He made a promise to Scott that he would never put his life in danger.

 

Scott used him. Scott lied to him. Scott caused this feeling of hollowness to swallow him. Scott undervalued him. Scott never acknowledged him. Scott always chose someone else over him. Scott never apologized for anything.

 

Stiles was too distracted to notice the electrical surge, causing the street lights to flicker energy pulsed around him, electrifying the cool autumn night air. Only when the lights above him blew, sending a shower of sparks and shards of glass down on him, did he snap out of his rage induced rant, using his arm to shield his face. The built up energy around him dissipated, and just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

 

 _That was weird_ , he thought. Street lights go out all the time but they never blow, not like that. He’s never _seen_ them do that, anyway. Must be because of the storm season coming and the old wiring.

 

He drove home and collapsed on his bed with a contented huff. Sleep made his eyes droopy, fluttering to stay open. Struggling to fight away the shadows, his bed was warm and soft, clean sheets freshly smelling of citrus and spice. He put all thoughts of Scott to the back of his mind, to worry about no more. All the thoughts about Lydia and Isaac trying to be his friends all of a sudden were something he was going to get to the bottom of, but right now they were pushed aside, the incident with the lights already forgotten, as sleep weighed him down heavily. He hadn’t had much of it lately and it was nice to be able to finally just relax.  Scott wasn’t a part of his life now so he had better start remembering that.

 

A throat was cleared across the room. Stiles, too drowsy to care, simply huffed and rolled over. Sleep clung to his lids but he was able to make out the person’s outline. Standing in the corner of his room, next to his open window, was a bushy-browed muscle-man.

 

It took him several moments to throw himself off the bed as he realised someone was in his room. He hit his arm against the bed frame, crying out in pain and writhed on the floor in agony. “What the hell are you doing?!” he screamed in both shocked horror and agonising pain. “Stupid stalker wolves with no boundaries… bloody peeping tom more like, sneaking through people’s windows in the middle of the night. Who the hell does he think he is?” He seethed under his breath, forced through clenched teeth. Derek had the audacity to simply stand in the same spot and snigger to himself. “Yeah, laugh it up you over grown brute.” He struggled to his feet, using his bed for support. Derek abruptly stopped laughing, eyes blown wide. He froze with shock.

 

“Oh, shit … sorry,” He moved a step closer, hands outstretched like he was about to embrace Stiles, but stopped, dropping his arms as a wicked smile stretched his lips. His false mask of concern shattered. “I forgot you’re a spastic,” he said, laughing.

 

Stiles saw nothing funny about this. His arm was now throbbing. It took all his strength to hold back tears that threatened to escape his eyes. He would not give Derek the satisfaction. He flipped Derek off with his good hand and rummaged around in his bag for his pain meds.

 

His tone was flat, still not really wanting to talk to Derek after he helped Scott kill someone. “What are you doing here?”

 

Derek huffed. “Seriously? I need a reason to see you now?” Stiles still had his back turned to him but could feel him move closer. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him around, his eyes widening as he stammered to say something.

 

Stiles shrugged off his hand, wiped away the stray tear, and stood firm. “It bloody hurts, okay! You scared me half to death and nearly made me break my arm, again!” Derek shut his agape mouth and stood back.

 

He cleared his throat. “Ah, sorry, I just… wanted to make sure you were doing okay. That’s all.” He moved back to the window and before Stiles could call him back, he was gone.

 

Only in his life would you see a fully grown man use a window like a door. “I have a door you know,” he said to his empty room. Confused beyond measure.

 

Sometimes Derek stopped by and they talked. When he first started showing up it was late at night when Stiles was still awake reading police records and Derek knew John was either asleep or out. At first they didn’t really speak much; Derek is a bit shy and hard to predict. Stiles stopped trying to guess his actions weeks ago and now just goes with it, but lately they have been speaking more and growing closer.

 

Sure, he and Derek had grown a bit closer over the last couple of months, saving someone’s life a few times does that, but not close enough for Derek to just break into his house and act like a creeper. Normally he gave fair warning before showing up. This, however, was the first time he had fled so quickly. Every other time Stiles would have to force Derek to leave.

 

He was way too tired to even care at the moment. After hitting his arm, and reawakening some of the pain caused from its break, all he wants to do is sleep. He doesn’t even care that it’s only about half seven. Sleep was more important than anything right now. He closed and locked his window, changed his clothes with much difficulty and climbed into bed. He turned out his light and let the meds and his exhaustion wash him away into unconsciousness.

 

***

 

_White eyes and red hair, shrivelled lips that don’t cover teeth, walls of glass. A stream of terrified pleas and nonsensical mumblings. Stark blacks and whites of flashing scenery. His house, the veterinary clinic, the school, the police station, his Jeep speeding down a main road. Darkness. Falling. Crying birds flocked around an abandoned electrical substation._

_Why can’t he move? The air felt thin and musky. His arms felt as though they were contorted at odd angles. He was looking down at himself sleeping. Panic and fear clawed at his lungs._

_Drawing short rasping breaths. The beat of his heart provided an erratic staccato in his ears._

_A hollow scrape against his door followed by a loud bang, made him shiver in a cold sweat. His door creaked open. Inch by inch as the shadows grew larger. Anticipation stabbed him in the ribs. Watching in slow motion as shrivelled and dry taloned hands reached around the door. Coal black eyes watched his prone sleeping form._

_Wisp like hair, bright red, floated around the edge of the door as the grotesque figure moved past the shadow of the ajar threshold. Cracking and snapping into position like a contortionist as it made its way closer to the bed. White eyes looked up at him, drawing the very air from his lungs and causing dread to brush against his every nerve. She froze, hair billowing around her as she turned her head from side to side, contemplatively. It felt as though she was reading his soul like an open book. Drawing him in to his death._

_His breath hitched as she turned her attention back to the sleeping version of him. Vulnerable and unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. As the figure reached for his arm he fought against his restraints. Panic forced his heartrate higher, hammering against his ribcage, blood rushing to his ears._

_She vaulted onto the bed and started scratching strips of his flesh away from his still body._

_He screamed, the pain was agonising as he felt every pass of her blunt talons taking multiple layers of skin at a time._

 

 

 

 

Dry, calloused hands shook him awake. John’s red rimmed eyes looked down on him, while Stiles struggled against the touch.

 _She was going to kill him, he had to run. Fear froze him. Strong arms held him against a warm surface. Sound was muffled and distorted from the screaming. Darkness seeped in from under the door and his bed shook violently. His clothes clung to him and weighed him down._ Rough skin brushed his forehead. Stiles turned away from it as soothing whispers of comfort tossed him out of panic’s grip. John sat next to him on the bed, looking old and beaten. Tired and worn.

 

As Stiles’ eyes focused on the ceiling he saw John sitting on the edge of the bed the tears flowing freely, as he looked to the side to see him better, spilling over and staining his cheeks.

 

John’s hushed whispers of comfort soothed him and his aching body. His lips moved but no sound escaped. John replied, or tried too, but was muffled by running water and crashing waves. He looked down at his body but saw no blood. The light in the room was warm and bright, inviting. He sat up uneasily and shook his head to try and shake away the cotton feeling.

 

He surveyed the room, ignoring John’s tired and worried gaze. He breathed easier when he saw that it must have only been a dream. A nightmare.

 

A heavy hand on his shoulder made him jump, but was pulled away just as quickly. “Sorry… didn’t mean to, you’re safe, kid. It was just a nightmare.” Stiles nodded but was still too numb to do much else. His skin crawled and he could still feel hands roaming his body. He shivered and noticed his window was open.

 

He froze, sure he had locked it after Derek left. Wide eyes flew to meet his dad’s, his panic swirled in his gut like a maelstrom, “Did you open the window?” His voice was hoarse and scratchy but laced with urgency. 

 

John looked at the open window and frowned, “I thought you must have left it open?”

 

Unease and the feeling of being watched set in, full force. He rushed over and slammed it shut, locking it in front of his dad this time for proof, shaking and breathing heavily.

 

He definitely locked it. Derek wouldn’t unlock it. He knew it was just a dream but it still felt as though it were real. The window being open made it seem so all the more.

 

Sleep won’t be coming back to him for a while. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively. John stood and rounded the bed, wrapping him up in a warm and protective hug. “What’s going on, Stiles?” His breath brushed the hairs of his neck and made him shiver again.

 

He knew for certain that he had locked his window. Not just closed it but bolted it shut. If someone tried to open it, he would have heard it, wouldn’t he? He looked around for anything else out of place. Small as it was, he knew without a doubt that he had not made the scratches at the bottom of his door. Someone had been in his room. But it was just a dream, how could it have been real? He felt so vulnerable and weak. He hated it. Fear and paranoia screamed in the back of his mind.

 

Knowing that he was now safe with his dad here and that it wasn’t real with John’s strong arms around him made him relax slightly. When Stiles didn’t reply, too caught in his own head to realise John had asked him a question, John continued. “I heard you screaming just as I got in the door. I rushed up here and found you thrashing on the bed. Horrifying. You were sweating and crying.” Stiles couldn’t answer. Several long moments passed as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Stiles turning to return the embrace. John broke the silence, “I thought these were behind you?” He held him at arm’s length to study his face.

 

The loss of warmth and John’s concerned eyes made a new wave of cold ripple down his body. “She was clawing at my body. I was watching her from above, ripping and tearing away my skin. I was covered in blood.” John’s intake of breath drew his eyes into focus. He let out a shaky sigh as he regained his composure. “This is the first time it’s happened in nine years… the last time was when,” he cut himself off when the realisation dawned. The last time this had happened was when Stiles stayed over at Scott’s house.

 

The room was trashed when they woke up. Scott and Stiles just thought it had gotten that way when they were staying up playing video games and didn’t realise the mess they made. That night he had had a similar dream. White eyes, red flowing hair, dried and shrivelled skin, shadows creeping out from under Scott’s bed. His throat constricted as he forced out, “The last time was just after mom died.” 

 

***

Deaton was closing up for the night. It had been a busy day of constant appointments. He was just about to turn off the lights when he felt it. A massive surge of power. Most people wouldn’t have felt it. But Deaton was far from _most people._

 

It was odd. The surge of power almost felt familiar. Almost as if the energy was a soft embrace from someone he knew personally. To his knowledge none of his former or present contacts were in town. That meant that whoever had caused it was someone he knew in town.

 

Scott.

 

The thought of Scott being in trouble or in a situation where that much power was released caused him to pull out his phone and rush to dial Scott’s number. His normal mask of cool composure momentarily cracked.

 

For every ring that Scott didn’t pick up, Deaton’s fear and panic rose.

 

On the fourth ring, just as he was about to give in, Scott answered. “Deaton? What’s up, is everything okay?”

 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

 

“Ah. Why is that? Are you sure you’re alright? You sound a bit spooked.”

 

Knowing that Scott was in no immediate danger was a great relief. The last thing he wanted to do was worry him. “No, of course, sorry…” It just left the question as to what or who caused that enormous surge of energy. “I was just- ah, never mind. It was probably nothing. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

“Sure, no problem… It’s fine. You can call me any time. You know that.”

 

Deaton smiled fondly to himself. “Thanks Scott. I hope you know the sentiment is returned.” Before Scott could reply, Deaton cut in, “Anyway. It’s getting late and I hate to hold you up. Sorry, again, for disturbing you. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”

 

“Yeah, Deaton, of course. It’s just, are you-” Deaton cut him off again.

 

“Good night, Scott.” He hung up.

 

Although the day was long it seems his night will be longer. There is no doubt that he will be spending it researching and reading anything and everything he can about what just happened. He knew that he won’t get any sleep until he finds something that could help him explain this.

 

Just another mysterious occurrence to add to the list.

 

***

 

What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn’t have fled like that. Now Stiles is going to question him about it. That’s the last thing Derek wanted. He didn’t even know why himself.

 

Just the sight of tears on Stiles face that were there because of him made his gut drop. He didn’t know how to deal with emotions. Seeing tears on anyone makes him nervous. Seeing tears come from Stiles, that just about broke him.

 

He fled because he didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s tears. Least of all Stiles. He was his only friend, if Derek could even call him that. Thought he supposed he could. They had spent most every night together for the last two months. He had shared things with the younger teen that he has never even admitted to himself.

 

He didn’t want to lose that. Somehow he had to make it up to Stiles.

 

Stiles likes Marvel, he likes comics and geeky science shit. Derek didn’t know much about Marvel but he knew some stuff about science. He likes videos games and old cop dramas. Well, Derek knew next to nothing about video gaming and absolutely nothing about police dramas so they were out as well.

 

Flowers?

 

No, that is weird and couple-y. They weren’t a couple or even anywhere near having a romantic attachment with each other.

 

He’ll think of something. Maybe he’ll just take Stiles out some night and they can get take out or something. That seemed like the best option so far.

 

Right now, Derek needed a distraction.

 

That’s how he found himself at the Voodoo Lounge. A new club that had just recently opened downtown. It was more a strip club than anything. Girls walking around in cheap get-ups handing out drinks and some dancers surrounding the outer walls. It smelt foul, all the cheap lust and fake perfume, so strong that it was suffocating.

 

Being new, the place was packed. Everyone rushing to see what was so good about the new establishment. He was sure most patrons ended their nights disappointed and regretful. Sure, the place had a nice set up but it was tacky and the price of drinks were way too high.

 

Determined to distract himself, Derek sat at the bar and called the bartender.

 

“And what can I get for you, sweet cheeks?” She chewed her gum obnoxiously and tapped her fake nails on the counter.

 

“Double shot of bourbon.”

 

She smiled, “Sure, comin’ right up.”

 

He downed his drink in one go. Obviously he couldn’t get drunk but he found the burn of the amber liquid soothing.

 

The night progressed and as he stood to leave just after midnight, he bumped into someone, “Excuse me, I’m so sorry.” He turned to see who he had bumped but fell short when she spoke back.

 

“Watch it, meat head.” She scathed.

 

Something about her felt off. Her eyes were too bright and her smell was familiar. “Uh… Do I know you?”

 

The short, purple haired women glared. “How the hell should I know?” She walked off before he could reply.

 

It was strange. She felt familiar. He had seen her somewhere before but he just couldn’t place it. This was going to bug him for the rest of the week, he just knew it.

 

***

 

Isaac was asleep on the couch when he got home, huddled in on himself while Doctor Who played in the background. He looked so small, innocent even. At times like these, when Derek witnesses Isaac at ease and peaceful, he wonders what things would have been like if he never bit Isaac. Or if he didn’t get Isaac away from his father.

 

Most nights he still lies awake thinking of all the things he would do to that man if he had the chance. He just didn’t understand how anyone could do that to Isaac. To anyone.

 

He placed a hand on Isaac’s back and shook him gently. “Hey… Isaac.” He stirred but stayed fast asleep. “Isaac. Wake up Sleeping Beauty.” Isaac murmured in protest but opened his eyes blurrily.

 

“Please don’t kiss me.”

 

Derek drew back. “What the shit?!”

 

Isaac laughed. Voice still croaky from sleep. “The Prince was only able to wake Sleeping Beauty by kissing her. I was just joking.”

 

“I should fucking hope so!”

 

Isaac just giggled but moved off to bed.

 

“G’night.” He mumbled.

 

Before he reached the door to his room he turned around and took on a stage voice, “Fare thee well, my prince, may your dreams-”

 

Derek threw a pillow at him. “Go to bed, you idiot,” he said with a fond smile.

 

Isaac has come so far in the last year, it was staggering, when Derek truly thought about it. When he was first bitten he was shy and timid. Moving in with Derek and having a safe environment where he was able to be himself made all the difference to his personality. Isaac was coming out of his shell.

 

He wished that someday he may be able to do the same. Stiles has helped him with that and he is forever grateful. Derek would hate to lose Stiles as a friend. He could say that now. There are no doubts in his mind that Stiles is a true friend. If not his _only_ true friend.

 

He needed to make this up to Stiles. Was it really such a big deal though? Stiles isn’t petty. He won’t hold this against Derek … at least he doesn’t think he will. But just the thought of losing Stiles was enough to make him decide that, yes, yes it was a big deal. To Derek it was anyway. Stiles may not see it that way but he sure as hell does. Derek hurt him and he would be a pretty shit friend if he didn’t at least apologise to him for it. He will make it up to Stiles one way or another.

 

He shouldn’t have just barged in like he did. He has never done that and would feel as though his privacy had been breached if the tables were turned. If someone did that to him he would probably rip their throat out. It was a mistake on his part that he now has to correct. 

 

 

***

 

Stiles was beyond relieved it was a Saturday. A day of much needed rest and relaxation. After last night’s events and the events of the last few days, he was gratified to know that he was able to just spend the day in bed and get research done. The clouds were heavy and it looked to be a glum day, anyhow. Perfect reflection of how he was feeling.

 

It was a struggle to get any more sleep after John had left him last night. After John had gone to bed Stiles had spent another hour going through his room to find solid evidence that someone had been there last night. Sure, it was just a dream, but this is Beacon Hills, a place where weird occurrences are a part of everyday life. The supernatural seemed to be drawn to the town, but Stiles couldn’t think of a reason as to why. So he would be stupid to think that his dream meant nothing.

 

The scratches on his door were the only solid clues he found. Because of the fact that he couldn’t remember whether or not he had left his window open it wasn’t plausible evidence. What he wants to know is why now, all of a sudden, has this dream come back? And why have his dreams recently been so strange?

 

His stomach growled angrily. Maybe getting some food will help him think better.

 

Cold hardwood floor met the soles of his feet as he stretched out of bed. He made his way to his dresser, opened the first drawer and clumsily pulled his favourite Green Lantern shirt over his head. He struggled with the sleeves as his cast got in the way but he eventually managed to get it on.

 

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He glanced outside to see thick black clouds slowly making their way toward town. This was going to be a big storm, there was no doubt. It was meant to hit two days ago. If it was expected to have been big then, with two more days to accumulate momentum, now it is sure to be.

 

A female’s voice from downstairs made him turn towards the door. It was only past midday, so his dad was still home, but this was a female voice, not his dads. He didn’t hear anyone at the door and he wasn’t expecting anyone to come over. Did John have a lady friend over?

 

He pulled on a pair of sweats and made for the kitchen. No homewrecker is taking his dad. He was preparing himself to be as big of a cock block as he could but soon fell short at the sight of her. It wasn’t someone trying to steal his dad. His dad wasn’t even up yet. The lady standing in his kitchen making breakfast was none other than his grandmother.

 

She didn’t even have a chance to turn around before Stiles latched onto her small frame. He gave her a fright. She jumped and spun around in his arms before realising it was him and returning the hug with equal vigour.

 

He fell into his native tongue without realising. “~ _I missed you so much, Babcia_.~” It was a small whisper. All that he could muster right now.

 

The last time he saw her was more than seven years ago. She visits every now and then but she never spent more than a few months away at a time. The last seven years without her had been hard and now to have her back was beyond words. Her tender hug seemed to wash away every pain he has ever had.

 

He was making up for lost time, hugging her as long as he could, afraid she would disappear if he let go. Finally, after many moments, they pulled apart. Tears speckled both of their faces. Her accent was thick and she was far more fluent in Polish than he was. She spoke softly and held his gaze with her own warm smile. “~ _I missed you more, Genim.~_ ”

 

John walked into the kitchen, “Oh good, you’re up, and you found your surprise, it seems.”

 

“Come, come. Sit. We eat now. Papa is wake.” Her broken English was improving.

 

Whenever she stayed he was her translator. Stiles could speak Polish because he learnt it from day one but his dad only knew small bits here and there that he learnt from Stiles’ mother. Polish was Babcia’s first language so it was easier for him to just translate for her rather than her having to learn a whole new language.

 

“Dad, when were you going to tell me about this? When did you plan for her to come back? _How_ did you organize this… what with her not speaking English and all?” He was beyond impressed and immensely grateful.

 

With everything that has been happening lately it will be nice to have some normality return to his life. Somehow he knew that with her being back things will go back to the way they once were. John will be happier, Stiles will finally have someone to talk to and Babcia can tell him of all the stories no one wants to tell him. This surprise was probably the best he had ever had. It was no wonder that he wasn't able to take the stupid grin off his face and why would he? He had his grandmother back.

 

John smiled and sat down, Stiles sat across from him while Babcia went back to the stove. She spoke before John had a chance. “~ _Us old folk have our ways. We can’t go spilling all of our secrets at once.~_ ” Stiles laughed with her. John looked at them quizzically, waiting for the translation.

 

“She called you old and said not to spill all her tricks.” She came back and placed two large plates on the table before heading back to the stove. “~ _You come and eat, too. Tell me all about… everything! What have you been doing for seven years? And what has happened to my poor babies arm!~”_ She returned with the pan and piled their plates with food. Meat, eggs and gravy.

 

“Not too much for him. His cholesterol levels are shocking.”

_“~Oh… you worry too much~._ It fine. _”_

“See, not sure what she said before that but even she said it’s fine.” Stiles blew him off. He knew better than to get into this with him right now. He’ll do it over dinner. Right now he wanted to hear about Babcia.

 

As it is whenever she comes to stay there are many advantages. The biggest being her cooking. She was better than anyone he had ever met. Scott’s mom was fantastic but Babcia was better. Her traditional Polish food always took him back to his childhood. Her baked goods are a grade better.

 

His mother and Babcia taught him how to cook but he will never be as good as them. No matter how hard he tried. He would love to see his mom and taste her cooking one last time. The thought made him a little sad. It must have shown.

 

Babcia brushed his cheek and kissed the top of his head, “~ _I miss your mama too, Genim.~_ We strong. Not time for sad, we happy today, you like present?” She always had a way of know exactly what he was thinking, much like his dad. However she was never wrong. Either way he was ecstatic. It felt like a piece of him had been put back into place.

 

“~ _Very~.”_


	7. Elation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I left you all hanging for so long and I really wanted to make up for that, have an extra chapter a week early. Its not the best but I just needed to put in some filler content.  
> Thank you all so much!! Your support means the world.
> 
> AN: Also I have gone back and removed certain parts. (The book) So if you are a follower from the start you may want to go back and reread the last segment of chapter six. 
> 
> ~ means spoken in another language.

Stiles didn’t end up getting any research done that day. Instead he spent it with his grandmother. Listening to her tales of adventure and the excitement she had over the last seven years. She went all over the world. Her favourite trip was to Australia, where she held a snake and got to hug a bear. Not a real bear, just a koala.

 

 _“~It was the cutest thing. I was walking through the rain forests and this little monkey, a_ Capuchin _, came right up to me. Held out his little hand and took the piece of fruit right out of mine.~”_ She laughed remembering the encounter. Her eyes had a bright glow as she recounted her travels to the Amazon.

 

Stiles was sitting on the kitchen counter, listening intently, completely enamoured with how great his grandmother was. She had been back for a week now. Even though he had heard this story already it was even better the fourth time. He beamed, trying to picture the small mammal taking the offered fruit.

 

She moved past him to reach the spice rack; he jumped down and moved out of her way. _“~Man, you are so awesome. I can just picture it. You trekking through the rain forest, hacking and slashing, being all Indiana Jones.~”_ He gesticulated wildly, swinging his arms, mimicking the action of cracking a whip. _“… ~Tell me about the time you went to Cairo.~”_ He sat down at the table and watched her work. She was making her take on butter chicken.

 

Babcia smiled fondly but shook her head, _“~Oh, you’ve heard that one plenty of times.~”_ He groaned in protest.

 

“Aw come on, please, that’s the best one.” He slumped further in his seat, defeated. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to tell stories anymore. After a week of constant badgering from him he could understand. She was right also, he had heard that one plenty of times, she didn’t need to tell him again if she wasn’t up to it.

 

Her smiles was kind but forgiving. _“~Maybe tomorrow, I think you should be getting ready for school, no?~”_ He changed his mind, she was evil. Her smile widened to a wicked smirk.

 

Stiles eyed her suspiciously. _“~I don’t like you anymore.~”_ Babcia laughed easily and gave him a knowing smile.

 

“Really, it not so bad, hmm?” She patted his cheek and moved back to the kitchen counter. “~ _You need to learn as much as you can. Who knows what might be out there.~”_

 

All conversation halted as John walked into the kitchen. “Stiles! What are you still doing here, you’re going to be late for school.” Shit.

 

The clock on the wall read eight forty.

 

“~ _Go, I’ll tell you more later.~”_

He was shooed out of the house by both his dad and his grandmother. Luckily, he was already dressed and organised for school. They both waved him off on the porch. He waved back before turning his attention back to the road.

 

Just as he pulled on to the main strip his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller I.D - Isaac - but put it back in his pocket. He knew better than to drive while using his phone. It was weird for Isaac to be calling him. This was maybe the first time he ever has.

 

When he pulled up to a set of lights he checked the messages.

 

_Lahey:_

_8:47 am_

Where are you?

           

Stiles you’re going to be late.

 _8:50_     

Again!

 

He ignored them and drove as fast as he legally could. Getting to school on time was now probably out of the question. He just hoped not to get detention again for being late.

 

***

 

The phone rang through for the second time. Isaac was starting to get worried. He was pacing back and forth at the school entrance. Sure, Stiles is normally late but lately he has been late on a more frequent basis. If he kept this up he will be spending the rest of semester in detentions with Finstock.

 

All Isaac could think about for the last week was Stiles. Earlier in the week he noticed Stiles was happier after the weekend but he still didn’t know if that was because of Lydia or if something else happened that he doesn’t know about. He wished he was the cause of Stiles’ happiness but he had to constantly remind himself that they weren’t friends yet.

 

Proper friends, anyway.

 

Isaac would rather a stronger bond, like boyfriend, but that was never going to happen. He had no optimism for that. Just being his friend would be good enough. As long as Isaac was able to spend time with him. Stiles was straight and infatuated with Lydia. Isaac is a guy that Stiles hardly knows. So there is no way in hell that Stiles will fall for him at all.

 

“Isaac, hey, you didn’t have to wait for me.” The sound of sweet honey silk made all his worries fly out the window, but made his nerves itch.

 

He spun around and was greeted with the sight of Stiles in one piece. Safe. Isaac was so relieved to see the other boy that he flung himself at him. Constricting him like a python would their pray, ignoring Stiles’ pleas of protest. He just needed this one little moment. “Isaac, what the hell is wrong with you?!  Whoa, hey…. um. Okay?”

 

Since Friday last week, all Isaac was able to think about was this. Holding Stiles, his warmth and the brush of his breath against his skin. He knew he had it bad. So bad. But there was nothing he could do. Just the smell of him alone was enough to send Isaac crazy.

 

No. He needed to get a hold of himself. He pulled back, releasing the shorter teen and scratching the back of his head impishly.

 

“You good?” Stiles asked him with no hint of malice. His heartbeat was crazy high though.

 

Normally it’s faster than average and a bit spasmodic but it was only ever this fast when he was embarrassed or scared. Isaac had obviously embarrassed him by embracing him so suddenly. Maybe Stiles doesn’t like physical contact at all? The knowledge, alone, that he knew Stiles’ different heartrates in certain situations was alarming. If he didn’t want to ruin things between them completely he had to stop losing control.

 

He looked away and hid his blush. “Yeah… sorry. I was worried, is all.”

 

Stiles fell back to the broad smile he had when he got out of his Jeep. The sight made Isaac’s cheeks heat even more. “Oh, thanks… I guess? But no need to be worrying about this fine ass no more, Bucko.” He patted Isaac’s arm and moved past him.

 

Isaac was still caught on his ‘fine ass’ to notice. “Wait, why not? You seem awfully cheery today, too.”

 

Stiles scoffed. “Fuh—yeah? What is there _not_ to be cheery about?” Isaac gained back his control and moved to catch up with him. “Nothing, that’s what. Well, there is the missing people, the Alphas and the Coven trying to take over town, but other than that it’s peachy.” At Isaac’s questioning look Stiles realised he still had no idea what he was talking about. “Lighten up, bro, sheesh.” He paused to enter his locker code. “If I gotta’ spell it out for you, plebeian, I will.”

 

“Hey, takes one to know one.”

 

“Real mature dude. Still, you admit you’re a plebe.” Isaac went to make a retort but Stiles cut in over him, “Mem l-ah, blah blah, whatever. My Romanian grandmother came back last week and —well actually she’s Polish, like me, but she lived in Romania. So shes technically Polish but lives in Romania because thats where her husband once live,- before he died of course. I never knew him but I wish I had. Anyway, so, yeah... my grandma's back in town. ”

 

Stiles was Polish, he never knew that, that would explain the strange first name and the last name. “I never knew that you’re Polish.”

 

He closed his locker and slung his bag over his good shoulder. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, boy-o.”

 

Despite Isaac’s prompting to move faster, they were both still late for class. Earning them both detention for the rest of the week. To be honest, if it meant spending more time with Stiles, Isaac didn’t really mind. Derek may be a bit disappointed with him but he’ll get over it.

 

Half way through class Isaac’s resolve broke. Sitting away from Stiles was killing him. Scott sat next to him, forcing Stiles to sit with Greenburg. Isaac had offered the seat on his other side but Stiles refused saying, “Nah… thanks though. Sitting with Greenburg is better than sitting anywhere near that asshole,” completely ignoring Scott’s retorts.

 

He understood and didn’t push the subject. Seeing those two fight was something akin to watching a burning house. The more fuel added, the bigger the flames grew. Eventually they would burn out, but Isaac doubted they will ever be friends again. Not after what Scott said. Honestly, he himself didn’t even want anything to do with Scott after that, but to abandon him would be unfair and could be seen as him taking sides. He didn’t want that. Scott was his pack, his brother. Sure, Derek may be his Alpha, but Scott has always been there for him. He could never forget that.

 

Isaac threw a note at the back of Stiles’ head. He spun around with ice in his eyes. Thinking the note was most probably from Scott. When he read it his expression morphed from the glare that promised death to a more peaceable smirk.

 

‘ _What are you doing after school? Wanna’ hang out?’_

Stiles waited until Coach was distracted, checking peoples’ work, before throwing the note back.

 

‘ _Sure. You can meet my grandma. I'll take you to mine after detention.’_ was the simple reply.

 

Isaac didn’t know how to feel about that. He would rather be snuggled up next to Stiles on the couch while they watched a movie, but any time spent with Stiles is time Isaac will take. Spending time with the smaller teen was all he wanted to do.   

 

***

The warehouse was void of all sound apart from muffled voices in the back room. That’s where she headed. She opened the door and was greeted with the familiar sight of her brother. The empty space next to him where her other brother should have been made the rage about his death resurface.

 

“Yo, Nox, where ya been? Was startin’ to worry.” Her brothers’ tired eyes followed hers to the empty seat. “I miss him, too.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “Just wait til’ those little shits find out what we got in store for them.” When he turned back to face her his smile was wicked, and his eyes promised death.

 

“Yeah, just a matter of time.” The mere sound of Groods’ voice repulsed her.

 

She glared him down, “Shut your filthy mouth, _mutt._ You know better than to speak in my presence!” she screamed. Both men cowered away from her.

 

Groods whimpered but nodded his submission.

 

***

 

 

After school Stiles waited for Isaac at his Jeep. When he was hit in the back of the head with the note he was murderous. He thought it was going to be from Scott saying something about how he never wants to speak again. Which would have been stupid because the note would have been a form of communication anyway.

 

When he read it was from Isaac he was hesitant, but not enough so that he was suspicious of Isaac’s intentions. If the wavy haired dork tried to get anything out of him about the case that he might be able to go back and snitch to Scott, Stiles would tell him it was a police matter and he isn’t allowed to disclose any information. Though maybe not in so many words.

 

Stiles hadn’t spoken to Lydia all week. Just proves she was only trying to cheer him up to make herself feel better. It was all just words. Though it probably didn’t help that he was always in the library away from her. Still, if she really meant what she said she would have found him.

 

More and more recently he has noticed that his feelings toward said redhead have changed completely. His once deep infatuation with her is now a mere feeling of admiration. She was still brilliantly talented, he could see that, but he just didn’t see her as a goddess to be worshiped like he once did.

 

After Scott left him so broken he just assumes he saw reason when it came to all of the relationships he had with other people. Losing Scott opened his eyes, in a sense. Gave him clarity to see people for what they really were to him. Lydia, Alison and Isaac are acquaintances. Derek was a friend. Peter doesn’t count as anything but a threat.

 

The call he received from the psychopath still set his nerves on edge. Though, he hadn’t heard from him in a while. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Stiles wasn’t too sure. He’s guessing it’s bad. Peter was up to something. He just knew it.

 

Isaac was jogging toward him, goofy grin in place. “Hey, sorry. Thanks for waiting up,” he greeted. “Scott kept pestering me about why I was hanging out with you.”

 

The mere name left a sour taste in his mouth. He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice. “What did you say to him?” Isaac obviously picked up on it.

 

“Oh - no, nothing. I told him to mind his own business. He didn’t like that but I couldn’t care less, really. Not after what he said to you.” Silence fell between them for a brief moment. Stiles scowled at his shoelaces as he kicked a rock. “Sorry, let’s not talk about him, yeah?”

 

Stiles was silent for a moment more. Isaac was only trying to be friendly. He can’t be mad about that. It was more the fact that Scott just seemed to always pop up in conversation. Like everything revolved around his sunny smile. God, he hated that smile.

 

“Yeah,” was the only reply he could think of. “Get in, buttercup. Let’s get some food into those bones.” Isaac looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You can talk. You’re more a bag of bones than I am.”

 

Stiles fixed him with a soft glare. “Seems you want to walk, huh? Oh well, guess I’ll just meet you at mine.”

 

Isaac rushed to get in the car, unsure if Stiles was being serious or not. He wasn’t. They had planned to hang out. He wouldn’t drive off and leave the guy here after waiting quarter of an hour for him to get out of school. That would just be counterproductive.

 

***

 

Stiles let Isaac have control over the radio, and he had to admit he likes the other teen’s taste. “Hey, not bad. You actually have a good taste in music.”

 

Isaac side glanced him. “You say that as though you thought differently?”

 

Of course he did. “Well yeah. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know what your taste in music is? I’ve never been in a car with you, let alone asked you your preference.” If not for the radio, silence would have surrounded them like a cloak. It was still early days so it will probably take a while to find what interests they have in common with each other.

 

After a brief pause Isaac spoke, “It’s classic rock, by the way.” Stiles didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. “Just the full bodied feeling you get when a song connects with you. The beat, the guitar solos and then when the lyrics are aimed at you it just really get’s me going, ya know?”

 

“Wait, what are we talking about? I mean, that’s deep and all but I have no idea what’s going on?”

 

Isaac scoffed. “My favourite genre of music, it’s classic rock.”

 

“Oh, right. Right. Now I’m with ya.” It was uncommon for someone their age to like classic rock. Still, Stiles could understand why. Whenever John played some of his old records Stiles always found them catchy. “Well, I can’t say that it’s my favourite but I get ya. If I had to pick - and don’t laugh or tell anyone, or I’ll literally murder you.” He gave Isaac a level glance, to which Isaac smirked at.

 

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad.” Stiles wasn’t happy with his reply. He was definitely going to laugh and/or tell someone. Stiles told him as such. “Okay, I promise not to laugh or tell anyone.”

 

He still didn’t believe him but really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he wanted to make friends, which he isn’t ready to do just yet, he would have to tell the other person sometime or another. Isaac technically didn’t count. He already semi knew the guy.

 

Steeling himself, Stiles decided that it was better late than never. “Classical. My favourite music genre is Classical. Orchestral, if you want to get technical.”

 

All that could be heard was the thrum of the Jeep and the Katy Perry song playing in the background. Stiles grew nervous and looked over to Isaac. The latter was trying to hide a smirk, obviously refraining from laughing. Stiles appreciated that he was at least trying. He knew it wasn’t typical for a teenage boy in middle school to like classical music but he didn’t care. He’s not your typical teenage high schooler.

 

He sighed. “Go on, you can laugh if you want, I know it’s pretty stupid… or whatever.” Scowl deepening as Isaac did as he was asked. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, though. It was more a surprised laugh.

 

“No, no it isn’t that at all. I just never really pictured you as a Bach type of guy.”

 

In his embarrassment Stiles must have started to blush or the car must be getting hotter because he felt his cheeks burning. He scowled harder at the thought that he must look like such a dweeb to Isaac now. Not only was he a geek that likes extinct music but he was also blushing for no reason. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

 

Even Scott laughed when Stiles first told him years ago. Though that probably didn’t hold much value anymore considering Scott never actually liked him. He was simply a charity case that was no longer worth all the work. Scott finally saw him as the true burden he is.

 

Isaac turned to face him more. Not wanting to crash the car Stiles stayed facing forward, but glanced his way. “It’s not that big a deal, really. I’m sorry for laughing. It was just unexpected.” Stiles knew that, he nodded. “No seriously! I’m sorry. You look like you’re about to turn me into dog food.”

 

He must be still scowling. He tried to relax his face but memories of Scott laughing at him kept playing over in his mind. Accompanied with the words that broke him. ‘You’re just a freak. I hate you. I never liked you.’

 

These were constant thoughts that now plagued him. Ever since the day Scott spat those venomous words at him they are all he could think about. Scott was never really his friend. It was all just a web of lies. Spun to make Scott look like the nice guy.

 

Having his grandma back was nice and all but it still wasn’t enough to make him forget what had happened. His ex-best friend thought he was disgusting. It’s a wonder how anyone can put up with him at all. Isaac was sitting right next to him. How could he even stand the sight of Stiles’ pathetic existence? Half the school hate him because of his sarcastic comments alone.

 

After Scott blew up at him it was all anyone could talk about. The golden couple finally break up. Everyone was talking about it for nearly two weeks. It had only now started to be forgotten about because the masses found something else to criticise and ridicule. Probably someone being publicly humiliated by one of the jocks. That wouldn’t surprise Stiles if it was the case.

 

He tries to stay away from that stuff as much as he can. It only adds to the shame and suffering of another person and that just wasn’t his style.

 

Isaac cleared his throat, bringing Stiles back into the room, so to speak. “So… ah, what is your grandma like?”

 

Stiles almost forgot he was even there. “Well, she makes really good food? I don’t know man, you’ll see.”

 

He looked over to the taller teen. He looked almost worried, nervous maybe. If Stiles was meeting someone’s family for the first time he would be, too. Especially if said family was of a friend you didn’t know very well. “Chill, man. She is pretty sweet. You’ll like her.” Almost as an afterthought Stiles added that she also knew about the supernatural. But that was as far as he went into the subject. Unsure as to how much he was able to share with anyone.

 

Babcia had said not to tell anyone that he was a Spark but she never said anything about him not mentioning that she knew about the weird and dangerous unknown. He felt this would just make things easier and maybe put Isaac at ease a little. Knowing that he didn’t have to hide his nature or powers was probably a burden off his shoulders. There is nothing worse than having to pretend you are someone you’re not in front of other people’s family.

 

“Oh and she doesn’t speak English very well so I’ll probably have to translate for you. And by probably I mean I _will_ have too. She may try to intimidate you because you are someone new and she is a bit of a trickster but don’t let it get to you. I’ll tell you if you really need to worry about something.”

 

Isaac visibly gulped. Stiles just laughed. The look of sheer horror of his face was just too priceless. It looked as if Stiles was taking him to get castrated. This was going to be great. Hopefully Isaac will be able to distract him for a few hours, seeing as Derek is the one to normally do that and he hasn’t been seen for weeks now, Isaac will have to be the replacement for the meantime.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much! I was super anxious about feedback and whether or not anyone was going to read it. Any questions just ask. Ill try to update as frequently as I can it is in the process of editing and that alone is a mammoth task. 
> 
> Stick around, I will see you next update :P
> 
> I am looking for a beta if anyone is interested please let me know.


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